The Fools
by Brunette
Summary: [AU] Beni has taught Isabelle everything; how to dress, how to smile, and how to make rich men fall for her. When they arrive in Egypt, he sends her after Rick O'Connell, the man who has discovered Hamunaptra. But with a vengeful ex-husband, a scholar named Evelyn Carnahan, and the mysterious arrival of a desert chieftain, Isabelle isn't so sure she can go through with Beni's plan.
1. Je T'aime - Feb 3, 1926

_Author's Note: Behold, my utter refusal to do anything productive with the stories I already have. _

_I've been wanting to do another AU, and I was planning on working on a_ Scarab Society_ rewrite. That's still on my list, but this occurred to me and now I can't let it go._

_Disclaimer: The characters of _The Mummy_ and _The Mummy Returns_ are the property of Universal Studios__. The story is somewhat inspired by the movie _Original Sin_, and by the novel _A Reliable Wife _by Robert Goolrick, both of which have a similar premise to this...and only one of which is worth your time investment (the novel; that movie is a huge waste of time). _

* * *

**THE FOOLS**

* * *

**Je T'aime**

_Cairo, Egypt: February 3, 1926_

"This is it," he'd said. "He's the one."

And he'd chuckled to himself in his nerve-grating way, a slimy smile on his face, and said something about what a foolish bastard the man was. Or what a foolish bastard they were about to make him, anyway. The sorriest, most foolish bastard in the world, or at least in Egypt.

She'd nodded her head solemnly, looking into the face of the man in the paper, trying to make something of the image in the ink and the name below it: Rick O'Connell. An American like..._him_. Like the last one. Rugged and handsome and newly rich, the world wide and prosperous before him. Beni had hated that one and he hated Rick, she could tell from the way the corners of his mouth frowned when his smile faded - from the way his eyes lost their glee and hardened like stone. He stared down at the man's face and muttered something in that language only he seemed to know, and then set the paper aside.

She met his eyes. "And then...?"

He nodded, not quite looking at her, distracted by something. He loosened his collar and squinted at the blinding sunlight flooding in through the hotel window, and she took his arm.

"You promised," she said quietly.

He turned back to her, annoyed. "Didn't I just say this was it?"

"You've said that before."

He let out a whining groan. _"Isabelle..."_

"Just promise me," she said, staring up at him persistently. "Just promise me this is the last one, and we can go to Paris."

He rolled his eyes. "I told you Paris is dirty."

"It's all I want."

Beni held back a scoff, as if entertaining his own personal joke and glanced down at her hand on his arm thoughtfully. He looked back into her dark eyes and smirked. "After this we will go to Paris."

"Do you promise?"

"Of course."

She stared at him, and waited. He let out an impatient sigh.

"I _promise."_

Isabelle smiled and kissed his cheek, but he turned her lips to his and kissed her with a force that made her gasp, tugging her urgently over to the unmade bed. She let him, the way she always let him - the way she always had, ever since he found her, too young and too hungry on the streets of Algiers. He found her, only a little less desperate than she was, and said he had a room above the alley. He had a room and brandy and a postcard of the Eiffel Tower, which he let her look at just before he started kissing her. Just before his hand wandered to the threadbare loops and buttons of her blouse. And she let him, exhilarated by brandy and thoughts of Paris.

Beni let her in when no one else had. He gave her brandy and the postcard and half of a creaking bed that was a little warmer for the both of them being there. And she wouldn't forget that. It was more than anyone else had given. And when the morning came, she opened her eyes to his and found that he was staring at her. He'd been watching her, and he told her, _You could be beautiful, Isabelle._

No one had ever said that, either.

_You could be beautiful, and we could be rich._

And no one had ever included her in a "we." Isabelle had never been a "we" or an "us" - not with anyone. She had always been so terribly, frighteningly alone - in the orphanage, on the streets, every day, until Beni saw her hiding in the alley so that the pimp from the brothel a few blocks away wouldn't see her and try, again, to trick her into wasting away like a slave in his house. And though she had traded herself for food and a warm bed before, but she had always been thrown out the next morning. She had always been sent away alone. But Beni had not sent her out. Beni had told her she was beautiful (or that she could be, at least), and that the two of them together could be rich.

And she would not forget that.

She didn't care that Beni was homely, and a coward, and often dishonest. She didn't care that he sometimes made jokes that hurt her feelings, and said things in other languages on purpose so that she couldn't understand him. She didn't care, because he had given her a little brandy and the postcard, and he hadn't sent her away. He was hers and she was his, and she didn't care because she'd never had anything or anyone before. He was the only one, and he'd taken her up to his room without any coaxing. She hadn't had to beg him or barter with the only part of herself anyone ever wanted; he'd just taken her, and he'd made her his. _We could be rich,_ he'd said. And after that, she hadn't had to be alone anymore.

_Could we go to Paris? I've never been to Paris. I'm French, but I have never even been to Paris..._

_Of course. We will be so rich, we can go anywhere at all._

It had started with Raymond DuBois, a silly young heir who was in line to inherit his weak, dying father's sprawling farm.

Beni taught Isabelle how to slip out the back of a store with clothes from the dressing rooms. He showed her pictures of women from magazines, and stole cosmetics out of wealthy ladies' purses on the street. He memorized Clara Bow's hair and cut off the long, straggled black tresses that hung down Isabelle's back. He stole perfume and powder and high heels, and he made her study the rich women that shopped in the nicest parts of town until she could walk and laugh and bat her eyelashes just the very same way. He ate half as much food so that she could gain enough weight to look healthy - to have an inviting figure and a carefree face.

Beni did all of that, for her.

And when Isabelle met Raymond, he couldn't tell that she had been a desperate street urchin only a few weeks before. He couldn't tell that she'd once been homely and dirty and destitute. She'd done up her eyes like Marion Davies and he thought she was beautiful. He took her out to dinner in his automobile and Isabelle had never felt so glamorous or wanted. She'd never felt so wonderful in all of her life, but she hadn't forgotten that it was Beni who had brought her here, and that Beni was the one with her. It was Beni and her and no one else.

After a few weeks she told Raymond she thought she might be pregnant, and he married her quickly to cover it up. He married her quickly and he inherited the farm, and it was half hers - he made sure. He made sure because she'd bothered him about it, and all because he had pneumonia for a week. _Raymond, please! What if you die? Your brothers will take the farm from me, and your child and I will be left with nothing! _He gave her half the farm...and she divorced him. And she told him she had lost the baby because she didn't have the heart to tell him there had never been one at all.

Then Beni told her they had to go to America. In America, everyone had money, and everyone was as foolish as Raymond, and they would find another man. They'd find a foolish American who would be charmed by Isabelle's French accent, and take three or four times what they took from Raymond, and -

_And then can we go to Paris?_

_Yes, of course. Paris will be next._

But instead they went to Egypt, because tourists were discovering all kinds of wealth there. And tourists were the most foolish sort of all. They were reckless and gold-thirsty and all they wanted in a strange Muslim country was a strong drink and an exotic woman willing to open her legs. And even if Isabelle wasn't a beautiful Egyptian, she was peculiar enough to interest British and American men, and considerably less pious than a Muslim girl. And she would interest this man in the papers, Rick O'Connell, who claimed he had found the greatest treasure trove of them all...Hamunaptra.

Isabelle didn't know anything about Hamunaptra, and her mind was too fuzzy to think about it just then, with everything inside her tingling in the most wonderful way. She closed her eyes and she felt more than heard herself whisper, _"Je t'aime,"_ and then he rolled off of her and they lay there together, still and breathless.

She turned over to him and kissed his shoulder and told him again,_ "Je t'aime."_ Because she did. He was the only one she had and it didn't matter if he was...him. It didn't matter. No one else had ever wanted her when she was in that alley, but he had. He wanted her and he let her in, and she wouldn't forget that.

"Tell him your name is Isabelle Gabor," he said, reaching for the cigarettes on the bedside table.

She frowned in confusion. "But that is your name."

He only shrugged. "I know. But you cannot tell him your name - he will be suspicious since it is American."

"I was going to tell him DuBois."

"Don't do that. We are too close to Algeria."

Isabelle nodded, and slid closer to him, leaning her head on his shoulder. "I like your name."

He smirked around his cigarette, and she sat up enough to look him in the eye. "Can I...have it? When we go to Paris?"

Beni's brow furrowed in confusion for a moment, and he pulled his cigarette out of his mouth. "My name?"

Isabelle nodded. She hadn't had a last name when she was left at the orphanage, a tiny baby in a basket no one wanted. She hadn't had a first name, either, but it was the Feast Day of St. Isabel and the nuns decided to just called her that.

Beni frowned thoughtfully, and for a moment she thought he was going to say something cruel to her, but then he just shrugged. His face split into a kind of amused or leering grin (it was so hard to tell which with him), and he told her:

"Of course, _mon cher_. When we go to Paris, you can have my name."

Isabelle smiled and kissed his face, and settled down close to him again.

"But you must tell O'Connell," Beni said in a strange kind of voice. "You must tell him you are Isabelle Gabor."


	2. Rouge - Feb 3, 1926

_Disclaimer: The characters of _The Mummy_ and _The Mummy Returns_ are the property of Universal Studios__. The story is somewhat inspired by the movie _Original Sin_, and by the novel _A Reliable Wife _by Robert Goolrick, both of which have a similar premise to this._

* * *

**THE FOOLS**

* * *

**Rouge**

_Cairo, Egypt: February 3, 1926_

Isabelle wore her cherry red dress that night - the one with the rows and rows of tassels - and the red shoes she'd dyed to match herself. Red was becoming on her, Beni said, and made her easier to notice since her hair was dark. They'd tried bleaching it once but it was such a disaster that she had to go and pay a beautician to fix it. Beni said that men always notice blondes first, but since she couldn't be one, she'd have to find other ways to be noticed instead. So she wore red - lots of it. Her dress and heels and feather headband and nails and lips were all red, but her lingerie was violet. And when she bent down to adjust her shoe, Rick O'Connell would have to notice the flashing color of her silk bra.

She didn't know how Beni knew Rick would be at the Charleston, an upscale bar in the lobby of one of the popular tourist hotels. She never knew how Beni found any of his information out, but he was usually right, and when she slipped into the bar she spotted Rick O'Connell immediately.

He looked just the way he looked in the papers; even though nearly every other man there was dressed in a smart suit - even the wait staff - he still wore his collar undone and beige pants and boots. He had a matching suit coat, but it was slung over his chair. Isabelle had to assume he would have been asked to leave if all of Cairo didn't already know who he was, and how rich he was about to become. She couldn't believe how tall and broad he was, even sitting in the chair. She supposed she should have noticed that from his picture in the paper, but she hadn't. His size made him look even more uncomfortable in the expensive bar, and he kept trying to find a better way to arrange his long legs under the table, which seemed just a little too short for him.

Taking a breath, she strolled nonchalantly past his table, glancing down for only a moment to catch his eye before turning her attention back to the bar. She was certain she could feel his eyes on her legs and tried to maintain ambivalence. But when she leaned against the bar and ordered a martini, she couldn't say she was the least surprised to hear a deep voice interject:

"Put that on my tab, Izzy."

Isabelle turned and looked at him as if noticing him for the very first time. "How kind of you."

He smiled an easy, dashing smile, looking much more comfortable to be slouching next to her than trying to sit by himself at the table, and shrugged his big shoulders. "No problem."

Her eyes flitted back to the table he'd been sitting at before returning to his. "Are you here alone?"

"Yeah."

She gave him a little smile. "I would think a man as famous as you would never be alone."

Rick shifted where he stood uncomfortably, and let out a sigh. "So you know who I am, huh?"

"I saw your picture in the papers." The barkeep set her martini down in front of her, and she thanked him with a smile before bringing it to her lips and taking a casual sip. "I am not so certain what it is you have done, though."

Rick scoffed under his breath and looked at her in something between incredulousness and amusement. "Well, you'd be the only one who didn't get Hamunaptra shoved down their throat the minute they got here."

Isabelle shrugged and took another sip from her martini. "You are welcome to tell me all about it."

"Honestly, if I never have to talk about it again, it'd be too soon."

She smiled and looked up into his eyes. "Then we will talk about something else."

"Good," Rick said, sounding relieved. "Do you, uh, wanna come sit with me?"

Isabelle shrugged and took his arm, strolling lazily back to his table and taking the chair he pulled out for her. She watched him drop into the seat across from her, and smiled.

"Now, what will we talk about? You are an American,_ non?"_

"Yep."

"Have you been in Cairo long?"

Rick glanced down into his whiskey glass and murmured, mostly to himself. "As long as I can remember..." He took a breath and glanced up at her, pretending to look casual. "What about you? You're from...France, I take it?"

"Algeria."

Rick almost smiled to himself, though his eyes were grim. "I've been there."

"Oh?"

He sighed and took a sip from his glass, telling her. "I was in the, uh, French Foreign Legion for a little bit."

"Sidi Bel Abbes."

"That's right."

"I'm from Algiers."

Rick nodded. "Sure. I was stationed there for a bit."

Isabelle took another sip from her martini and let her gaze drift about the room, an uncomfortable silence falling between them as they sat together at the table. She pretended not to notice other gazes straying to her, and leaned back in her chair easily.

"So, uh," Rick said, a sheepish smile on his face. "I just realized I don't even know what your name is..."

She glanced back at him and extended her hand. "Isabelle Gabor."

Rick took her hand and shook it, but his brow furrowed up for a minute, and he blinked. He looked her over curiously and said, "Sorry - what did you say your last name was?"

"Gabor."

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and reached for his drink, taking a sip. "Huh."

"Is something the matter?"

He shook his head. "Nah, I just...I knew somebody with that name once. Probably just a coincidence."

Isabelle nodded, though the way he was studying her face made her nervous. She didn't dare look away from his bright, blue eyes, though, and tried to keep a quizzical expression. After a moment Rick just sighed, looking strange and unnerved.

"Well, you don't look like him," he said with a forced laugh, and took another sip of whiskey.

She took a breath and said, "I would not know if I did. I am an orphan."

Rick sat up in his seat, his gaze jumping back to hers in surprise. "Really? Me too."

Isabelle tried to keep a casual smile on her face, but inside her stomach felt like it was twisting itself into a knot. The other men before him had had families - had grown up in nice homes with parents and brothers and sisters - and she hadn't felt so bad about taking from them. They already had so much more than they could ever know, having people who cared about them. But Rick was an orphan like her, and that sent a little sting of guilt through her whole body. She watched him steadily and willed her smile not to crack.

"You are?"

"Yeah," he said, glancing down. "I uh, grew up in an orphanage on the other side of town."

Isabelle swallowed hard, and she couldn't keep a smile on her face any longer. She stared at him. "I grew up in an orphanage in Algiers. I was left there as a baby."

"Wow," Rick said, looking into her eyes a long moment. "I'm sorry."

She swallowed again and tried desperately to maintain control of herself and the uncomfortable emotions twisting inside of her. She must have drank too quickly, if she was letting herself feel so strange about Rick being an orphan, too. She reached over and took his hand, staring at him with her wide, dark eyes.

"It is so hard," she said quietly. "It is so hard to be alone, as you know."

He nodded his head, gazing back at her in a way that could have broken her heart, if he'd stared a moment longer. But before she could think to do anything, he leaned over and pulled her into a kiss.

* * *

"Well, well, well. Has the Devil come to collect me soul or is that Beni goddamn Gabor?"

Beni glared up into the familiar face of the barkeep, a distasteful sneer on his lips. Izzy didn't look any happier to see him, and his expression only soured as he took in the clean, tailored suit Beni wore.

"Seems you've moved up a bit in the world."

Beni smirked. "Seems you have stayed just where you are."

Izzy only scoffed. "Not a lot 'a upward mobility for folks like me, now, is there? Wouldn't 'a thought you had much, neither, but I s'pose white is still white, ain't it?"

Beni just rolled his eyes. "Can I have a vodka, or do I have to listen to you sob all night?"

Izzy grumbled something to himself and went about pouring the drink.

"You just missed O'Connell."

Beni muttered sarcastically, "And I am terribly sorry for it, too."

"Not that he's good enough to sit up here with the likes 'a me now that he's a big shot. Said he came here to avoid folks he knew...S'pose you saw the papers," Izzy said before something occurred to him, and a leering smile lit up his face. His eyes flashed at Beni smugly. "Though you can't read, can you, mate?"

Beni's eyes narrowed. "I know about O'Connell."

"Gotta make you awful sore, don't it?" Izzy said, setting the glass of vodka down in front of Beni. "As ol' Willy What's-'is-name would say, 'Ay, there's the rub.'"

"I don't know what that means."

"Well it's gotcha, hasn't it?" Izzy said, leaning over the bar and lowering his voice. "I mean, you was there, too, wasn't you? Whole bloody garrison cut to bits, and you told me it was for nothin'. Then O'Connell heads out there for no goddamn reason, and what's he find? There's gold to be got after all. It's got to rub you raw, that's all I'm sayin'. Rubs me, and I weren't even out there with ya."

Beni let out an impatient sigh and took a much-needed gulp of his vodka.

"All 'a them folks you abandoned out there, and you could 'a been rich ages ago."

Beni's hard, grayish blue eyes shot up to Izzy's darkly, but Izzy only grinned.

"Rubs ya, don't it?"

Beni took a long sip of his drink and said airily. "I hold no grudges against O'Connell."

"Bullshit."

"I am a changed man."

Izzy sniffed, glaring jealously at his suit again. "Only thing that's changed 'bout you is your clothes and your stench. Where's it you been the last - what's it? - three years, anyways?"

Beni just gave him a look. "Nowhere."

"You've been somewhere, 'cause you ain't been here. And don't think nobody forgot why you left."

Beni choked on a sip of vodka, his eyes flitting about the bar nervously for a moment before he remembered himself and tried to regain his previous ease. He straightened on his barstool and scoffed dismissively.

"I do not know what you are talking about."

"'A course you do, mate." Beni could feel Izzy's smug, leering eyes and he glared up at him irritably. Izzy only smirked knowingly. "'A course you do."

Beni just rolled his eyes, though his hand shook a little as he took another long drink from his vodka. He thought in three years' time_ that_ would have been forgotten, especially with so many other idiot tourists wandering out into the desert never to be seen again -

"But you know what _really_ gets me 'bout this whole business with O'Connell?" Izzy said, his voice tight with envy. Beni glanced up, but Izzy wasn't even looking at him; he was gazing across the dim bar at a secluded table where O'Connell was tugging on his suit jacket and pulling out the chair so Isabelle could stand up. Beni watched them with narrowed eyes, fighting back the smirk that wanted to crawl into the corners of his mouth as O'Connell offered his arm and Isabelle took it, the pair of them taking quick steps as they hurried discretely out of the bar. "Just look."

"I could not see her well," Beni said, finishing off the last of his vodka in an effort to keep a grin off of his lips. "But she looked like she could be beautiful."

Izzy turned back to him animatedly. "Of course she was! Did you ever know O'Connell not to get the prettiest pieces of ass even before he was Mr. Hotshot Millionaire?"

"He always had more balls than brains."

Izzy scoffed. "Hey, hound or no, it ain't O'Connell that could use a fat wallet to improve 'is luck. Lucky bloke got some even when he ain't had a cent to his name. Now he'll just have 'em all. I mean, that's it for the likes 'a you and me. Call it a goddamn day, 'cause folks like you and me ain't about to get nothin' 'less we're paying for it by the hour."

Beni couldn't keep the smirk off of his face any longer, but Izzy was too busy lamenting his lot in life to notice. O'Connell might be rich and handsome now, but he wouldn't be for long. Not if things continued to go his way - and they were already off to a brilliant start. O'Connell had left with Isabelle. It would only be a matter of time before everything he had became Beni's.


	3. Incertitude - Feb 4, 1926

_Disclaimer: The characters of _The Mummy_ and _The Mummy Returns_ are the property of Universal Studios__. The story is somewhat inspired by the movie _Original Sin_, and by the novel _A Reliable Wife _by Robert Goolrick, both of which have a similar premise to this._

* * *

**THE FOOLS**

* * *

**Incertitude**

_Cairo, Egypt: February 4, 1926_

Isabelle woke up while it was still dark - too dark to quite make out the numbers on the clock situated on the bedside table of Rick O'Connell's hotel room. She hadn't meant to fall asleep at all, only the bed was so very warm and the hotel had sent up a bottle of champagne on ice, and there was no sense in drinking champagne if they weren't going to finish off the bottle. And between the delightful tickle of champagne in her nose and Rick O'Connell's warm, gentle arms, she couldn't help but drift off into a dreamless sleep.

But it was still dark when she woke up, and she was glad for it. As carefully and quietly as she could, she slipped out of Rick's arms and got out of bed. She got dressed, glancing at his peaceful form all the while to be sure she hadn't disturbed him. With a sigh, she opened her purse and found the slip of paper she'd written up ahead of time, with the phone number to the room she was staying at with Beni. She placed it on the bedside table, taking one final glance at Rick's sleeping face before creeping across the room.

It wasn't until she turned the lock and was opening the door that Rick grunted in his sleep, and sat up all the sudden. Somehow in the darkness, she found his bleary, squinting eyes.

"Are you leaving?"

Isabelle pressed her lips together and told him softly. "I think it is for the best."

Rick blinked hard, his body still heavy with sleep. "Okay."

She offered him a little smile. "Good night."

Isabelle slipped out the door and had nearly closed it behind her before she heard him say:

"Wait."

Curiously, she opened the door a crack and met his eyes again.

"I haven't met anyone like you...I mean, you know, like us - with our, um...background, I guess, at any of these snooty bars and places before..."

Isabelle smiled.

"I want to see you again."

She nodded, and slowly began to close the door, "Alright."

"Where can I find you?"

"My number is on the table," she told him quietly. "Get some sleep."

Isabelle closed the door and hurried down the hallway, deciding she'd rather take the stairs than wait for the elevator. She couldn't bear to stop moving - to stand in one place and have to contend with her thoughts. She just couldn't bear to think...

But when she reached the lobby the desk clerk insisted on calling her a cab, and she was forced to stand there in the wide, double glass doors waiting for her ride. She shifted her weight and tried to think about anything else at all, but her sleepy mind kept drifting back to Rick O'Connell.

It wasn't so much that he was handsome, though she did have to admit his smile was charming and his eyes were the most remarkable shade of bluish-green. But it wasn't that he was handsome. It wasn't even that he kissed so well, or that the way he made love was gentle and slow and sweet. That wasn't what struck her, or kept him on her mind. Raymond had been handsome and her American husband, Dave, had been a good lover, too. Those things didn't matter, not to Isabelle. None of these rich men could ever matter - not when Beni was the one who had saved her from the streets. Beni was the only one who could possibly know her, because men like her previous husbands never would have even noticed her before he made her beautiful.

But Rick was different. She couldn't help but notice. He hadn't been a rich man and he never expected to be, and he was nervous and uncomfortable in that world. He looked the way Isabelle felt all the time, when she had to attend balls and galas and extravagant events: like a sham, a sorry imitation that was certain to be found out and rejected at any possible moment.

And even if Rick wouldn't have noticed her in that alleyway, Isabelle still couldn't shove away the thought that he'd been poor and desperate once, too. He'd been poor and desperate, and that had to count for something.

Her cab arrived and took her just up the block to the hotel she and Beni were staying at. She tried to pay the driver but he said he couldn't hardly justify charging her for such a short ride, so she thanked him and hurried inside. She noticed it was nearly three in the morning when she strode through the empty lobby, eager for a bath and a long sleep.

Beni didn't stir when she unlocked the door, and she breathed a little sigh of relief, pulling off her shoes before she tiptoed over to the bathroom and flicked on the light. Even though it was terribly late, she just couldn't slip into bed without bathing first. Getting into bed with Beni after being with another man always made her feel uncomfortable and cheap, and Isabelle would much rather bathe at some strange hour of the night than feel that way. She twisted the faucet and undressed while the water got hot, kicking her clothes into a ball in the corner of the room.

She didn't like being shared between two men. In an odd sort of way, it reminded her of living in the alley, because she always felt dirty no matter what she did. She hated sleeping with her husbands because Beni was the only man she loved, and she hated sleeping with Beni because it seemed like a cruel trick to play on a man she was already duping out of half his estate. It had been a relief to sign her divorce papers in America, even though Dave's grumbling made her terribly nervous as he signed her alimony check and tossed it on the table. It had been a relief to think that maybe, with so much money, Beni might finally take her to Paris now, and it could just be the two of them again. Surely Beni preferred that to having her sleep in some other man's bed; surely he'd rather she had his name than someone else's...

Isabelle stepped into the shower and tried to stop thinking about everything. She was back where she belonged now, and she would wash away Rick's touch and go to bed with Beni. And perhaps...perhaps Rick wouldn't call her. Perhaps he'd still been a little drunk on champagne, and he'd see her number on his bedside table and struggle to even recall her name. Perhaps a few days would pass and Beni would decide he'd rather go to Paris now. They had so much money from Dave, and Beni hated the heat. It was probably snowing in Paris.

With a sigh, Isabelle turned off the water and stepped out of the tub, wrapping herself in a towel before padding into the main room. Beni must have tugged the curtains tightly closed before going to sleep, and it was so dark that she had to stand and wait for her eyes to adjust before she could make out the vague shadow of the bed. She tiptoed over to the left side, to the side she always slept on, and dropped her towel on the floor before slipping under the blankets. Her whole body relaxed against the soft mattress, and she felt a kind of comfort at the sound of Beni's steady snoring and the smell of cigarette smoke that always clung to his skin, and after a moment she drifted into a light sleep.

But she couldn't have been asleep more than a couple hours before she awoke with a start, and noticed that Beni was sitting up in bed, thoughtfully smoking a cigarette. The morning was gray and bright and she still felt so very tired, but the way Beni was frowning at the wall made her curious. She propped herself up on an elbow and was about to ask him why he was awake, but he spoke first, without even looking at her.

"You got in very late."

Isabelle glanced down. "I fell asleep. I drank too much champagne."

Beni grunted and took a long drag from his cigarette, blowing out a stream of gray smoke that hung in the air like a ghost.

"Did you wait up for me?"

He shrugged. "Only for a little while."

"I'm sorry."

Beni didn't say anything and kept smoking. Isabelle couldn't help but feel puzzled and nervous at his strange tone, and sat up next to him.

"Was he good?" Beni asked suddenly, turning to look at her with cold eyes. Isabelle stared back at him in shock, her mouth hanging open for a moment before she was finally able to stammer:

"What?"

"I asked you if he was any good."

"Why would you ask me that?"

Beni snorted and turned his attention to the wall again, pretending to ignore the way she stared at him in horrified confusion. He snuffed out his cigarette in the ashtray and reached for another, and something about the grim set of his mouth made Isabelle realize something.

"You know him," she said quietly.

Beni snorted dismissively and lit his cigarette. "No, I don't."

"He said he knew someone named Gabor..."

He turned and looked at her incredulously. "And I am the only Gabor on earth now?"

But Isabelle's wide, dark eyes persisted on him. "Why did you want me to tell him my name was Gabor?"

"I told you," he said tersely. "Daniels would make him suspicious, and we are too close to Algeria for you to use DuBois."

"But I could have used another name."

Beni willfully ignored her and puffed on his cigarette.

"You insisted I use your name."

Beni let out a loud sigh and turned back to her impatiently. "It does not matter. And you still have not answered my question."

Isabelle frowned. "What question?"

"You stayed out awful late with O'Connell," he said implicatively, his voice tense with bitterness.

"I fell asleep. Why are you acting so strangely?"

Beni just snorted and smoked his cigarette, glaring across the room at nothing in particular. Isabelle sighed.

"I cannot do this with this man if you are going to be jealous."

Beni rolled his eyes. "I am not jealous of O'Connell."

But he was. Isabelle could see it from the way Beni sat there so rigid, puffing on his cigarette too rapidly to even enjoy it. She could tell he was desperately, angrily jealous of Rick O'Connell; he was up at five in the morning stewing over her spending the night with him, even though Beni was the one who picked O'Connell out in the first place. Beni had never behaved this way over Raymond or Dave. He'd never cared how late she stayed out with them, and certainly never seemed to mind when she moved into their homes and lived as their wife.

But he had waited up for her tonight, and he could not sleep for his jealousy, and Isabelle felt a strange mix of sadness and hope for it. She drew a little closer to him and leaned her head on his shoulder, running her hand up and down his arm hoping it might relax under her touch.

"Well you have no reason to be, _mon cher,"_ she purred, and kissed his cheek. He just stared ahead and smoked, but Isabelle leaned closer whispered in his ear. "You are the only one I have ever liked. I would rather just have you. We could leave for Paris right now and never see Rick O'Connell again - "

But Beni turned all the sudden and glared at her with wide, urgent eyes. "You are going to see O'Connell again. I want his Hamunaptra money."

"But _mon cher,_ we already have so much money - "

His eyes narrowed, stopping her mid-sentence, and he pointed at her warningly with his cigarette. "You will see O'Connell again. We are going to take him for all that he is worth."

Isabelle stared back at him, perplexed and a little frightened, and slowly nodded her head. "Alright..."

"Did you leave him your number?" he demanded.

"Yes," she said quickly. "He said that he wants to see me again."

"Good," Beni muttered, though Isabelle was sure she heard that bitterness in his voice again. He snuffed out his cigarette and settled down in the bed with his back to her. She let out a sigh, staring at his shoulders that were so much narrower and bonier than Rick's, and felt a kind of pity for him. She leaned over and kissed the side of his face, but he swatted her away.

She gasped in surprise, and quickly breathed, "I'm sorry," laying down on the bed again feeling sad and afraid. She couldn't help but sometimes worry that Beni would leave her, just as everyone else had left her. She couldn't help but worry, especially when he was so easily upset. She was always afraid he might leave, and she would be devastated if he abandoned her over this silly business with Rick O'Connell, a man she didn't even know. She glanced over at him, knowing from the way that he was breathing that he was still awake, and said plaintively, _"Je t'aime."_

For a moment Beni just continued to lay there unmoved, but then he let out a sigh and rolled over to face her. Isabelle was relieved to find that he seemed more tired than annoyed.

_"Je t'aime,"_ he said, and opened his arm to her. She curled up against him, relaxed and sleepy until his hand started to wander over her body. He kissed her neck and brought his lips very close to her ear and told her, "We need his money, to buy a nice place in Paris. Everything is more expensive there."

Isabelle nodded her head, her heart racing at the thought of Paris being so very close at last. But then his hand slipped between her legs and she bit back a gasp, and she couldn't really picture the Eiffel Tower anymore.

"Do you really like me the best?" he asked, though his voice was smug and sure.

She leaned into his touch and told him she did, and imagined they were making love in a Paris flat with frosted window panes, and that the heat of the oncoming desert morning was the welcoming fire of a hearth.


	4. Evelyn - Feb 4, 1926

_Disclaimer: The characters of _The Mummy_ and _The Mummy Returns_ are the property of Universal Studios__. The story is somewhat inspired by the movie _Original Sin_, and by the novel _A Reliable Wife _by Robert Goolrick, both of which have a similar premise to this._

* * *

**THE FOOLS**

* * *

**Evelyn**

_Cairo, Egypt: February 4, 1926_

Rick called a few hours later and asked Isabelle if she was free for lunch. Beni was in the shower when he called, and she was tempted to tell him that she couldn't go out for lunch today, but she reminded herself that Rick's money would get her to Paris, and she agreed to meet him at a little after noon, at a nearby cafe.

She didn't know why she felt so strangely about going to lunch with Rick. She might have even wanted to see him again, only the thought of going out with him knowing it was all for his money made her uncomfortable and guilty. She'd never really felt guilty about taking a wealthy man's money before...

Well, she'd felt a little guilty over Raymond, if only because he was so very excited about having a baby. Even though it was supposed to be a mistake, he'd been happy and eager to marry her over it. He thought it was perfectly marvelous when she told him she was pregnant, and it had made her wish she actually had been, even though she wouldn't have been able to tell if it was really Raymond's or Beni's, anyway.

She was relieved when she didn't have to use that story with Dave. After a few months of seeing him, Beni was pressing her to just fake a pregnancy, but Isabelle was reluctant to live through that terrible lie again. And then Dave - impulsive, volatile Dave - just suddenly decided one night at a party that he wanted to marry her, and he proposed in front of everyone. He'd had a little too much to drink, but Isabelle quickly told him yes, and he drove her out to the jeweler's home in the middle of the night and pounded on the door until the man answered, and bullied him into opening up his shop so that Isabelle could have any ring she wanted, right that minute.

She picked out the most expensive ring in the whole store because she knew it's what Beni would want her to do, and Dave wouldn't mind. It was a clunky, heavy thing that used to rub little red spots on her fingers, and she was relieved when she could finally take it off. Beni sold it to a different jeweler and bought their tickets to Egypt with it, first class, and she'd never been so happy to get rid of something in her life.

But Rick wasn't like Raymond or Dave. She didn't know him well, but she could tell that much. She knew it from the fact that he'd grown up in an orphanage, just like her. Raymond's family could trace their line all the way back to Charlemagne, and Dave's family had owned a successful ranch even before his oil wells came in, but Rick had once had nothing. He'd had nothing and, by sheer luck, he'd come into fortune, and Isabelle didn't like sharing that in common with him - at least not when Beni was insisting they take him "for all he's worth."

Isabelle was relieved that Beni didn't seem jealous when she told him about her lunch plans with O'Connell, and when lunchtime came, she and hurried down to the lobby to ask the desk clerk to call her a cab. And as she watched the dusty streets of Cairo whip past her window, she couldn't help but feel a little eerie. Cairo was so very much like Algiers - a European haven in the middle of a strange, exotic land - and it felt familiar and uneasy to her at all at once. She didn't like being reminded of Algiers and she never wanted to go back there, but it was still the place where she grew up. Cairo felt natural to her in a way that Dave's Texas ranch never had.

She arrived at the restaurant and paid the driver, shielding her eyes as she stepped out into the bright, hot sun. Taking a breath, she steeled her nerves and hurried into the relief of the restaurant, and was surprised to see Rick there waiting for her. He smiled and waved her over to his table, and a waiter appeared from somewhere to help her into her seat.

"Hey," Rick said.

She smiled and picked up her menu. "Good afternoon."

"I figured you might, uh, like French food."

Isabelle glanced up at him and smiled a little wider. "I love French food."

"Good," he said. "So maybe you can order for me, because I can't pronounce half this stuff." Rick winced self-consciously and loosened his collar, adding, "I mean, if I heard it, I'd know what it was, but I didn't learn how to read much French in the Legion..."

"The nuns taught us to read in the orphanage, but mostly just the Bible and Catechisms," she said, her brow furrowing at the wine list. "I had to learn menus later."

Rick sat up a little in interest, and he started to say, "Ya know, I've been meaning to ask how - "

But he was interrupted by a sudden and angry, "Oh, my _God!"_

Isabelle looked up in surprise to see a sensibly-dressed woman in eyeglasses making her way to their table. A tall man in a linen suit was desperately trying to pull her back.

"Evy, no - "

She wrenched her arm free and strode right up to their table, glaring down at Rick with narrowed eyes. "You're Rick O'Connell, aren't you?"

He looked up at her quizzically, and seemed to be fighting the most amused smirk. "And you are...?"

"Evelyn Carnahan, not that it makes a bloody lot of difference to you," she snapped. The man who'd been trying to restrain her winced nearby.

"Evy, please."

She ignored him and continued to stare haughtily down on Rick. "You know, some people work their entire lives to discover something as important as Hamunaptra, and I suppose you don't even care that you've happened upon one of the most incredible sites in history!"

"Um..."

"There's treasure there and that's the only thing that makes any difference to you, but there's also years and years of history that are going to be destroyed while you mindlessly dig up your loot!"

Rick cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, glancing over at the man with Evelyn uncomfortably. "Does she come with a muzzle?"

"Afraid not," he said, latching onto Evelyn's elbow again. "Alright, so you've said your piece, and we can go have a bit of lunch now - "

"Jonathan, stop it," she said, wrenching her arm free of him again and turning back to Rick. "There are _real_ archeologists in this city, and even though it might take a bit longer for you to profiteer off of history, something much more important might be uncovered. I just hope you've taken that into consideration."

Rick leaned back in his seat, watching in something between fascination and amusement as Evelyn turned on her heel and told her companion that,_ yes,_ they could go eat now. But before she could even take a step away from the table, he said:

"So you got any recommendations for these 'real' archeologists?"

Evelyn turned back to him just as suddenly, blinking in surprise. She pulled her glasses off of her face and stared at him, too suspicious to smile. "Are you in the market?"

Rick shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, I wouldn't want to go destroying history or something, right?"

Evelyn's face brightened with a perfectly dazzling smile, and she sat down at the table excitedly. "Of course not, Mr. O'Connell. And, well, as it happens...I am an archeologist, and, well, what I lack in field experience I make up for in scholarship. You see, I can decipher hieroglyphics and hieratic, and I'm fluent in several ancient languages, including early and late ancient Egyptian, and Hebrew, and - "

"Great Scott, now we'll never eat," the man who was apparently called Jonathan grumbled.

Rick glanced up at him before turning his attention back to Evelyn.

"Look, I don't know anything about any of that," he said. "But you seem pretty fired up about this, so why don't you and your...uh...?"

He looked at the man in the linen suit implicatively, and he quickly stepped up to the table, a nervous kind of grin on his face.

"Brother! Jonathan Carnahan's the name - "

"Right. Why don't the two of you sit down and we'll talk this out."

Isabelle glanced up in surprise, doing her best to mask a frown. She was vaguely aware of Jonathan protesting the imposition, but Rick waved him off and turned his attention to Evelyn, who spent the entire time chattering about ancient Egypt until the waiter arrived to take their orders.

Isabelle wasn't sure what to think, and she tried not to seem too put off, forcing herself to casually sip at her glass of wine and pretend to listen to Evelyn. She knew better than to try and compete for Rick's attention; she would look silly and desperate, and men never liked that. But she couldn't help but feel a little strange as she glanced between Rick and Evelyn. She wouldn't have thought Rick was the sort of person to have any interest at all in ancient Egypt, but he listened to Evelyn intently with a smile always lurking in the corner of his mouth. And Evelyn - even though her hair was unstylishly long and tied back in a frizzy bun - even though her skirt was much too long and she wore spectacles - even then, Evelyn looked positively lovely as she told them all about Hamunaptra in a hushed, excited tone, her eyes twinkling with delight.

"She could do this all day," Jonathan muttered, giving her a nudge. Isabelle glanced up at him curiously. "Bore me to bloody tears."

"Rick does not seem to mind," she said as neutrally as she could.

Jonathan let out a sigh and glanced over at the two of them. "Yes, well. Perhaps he's just the painfully polite sort."

Isabelle scoffed to herself, but quickly hid it. Rick didn't seem like he was painfully polite, but she really didn't know much about him at all, and admitting that to Jonathan just seemed embarrassing. Fortunately, their food arrived a moment later, and the whole table fell quiet as they ate. Isabelle tried to think of something to say to shift the subject away from Hamunaptra, but before anything could occur to her, Rick pushed his cleaned plate up the table and declared:

"You know what? I think you're right. People like you should get a chance to study whatever's at Hamunaptra, and I want you to dig it up."

Evelyn sat up in surprise, her face beaming happily, and it was all she could do to just stare at him in happy shock.

"Are you serious?" she whispered at last.

Rick nodded. "I've never seen anybody so excited about this stuff before. If you're interested, I want you to do it."

Isabelle stared on as Evelyn giddily agreed, and she and Jonathan at last made their exit after Rick insisted on paying for their meals. She wasn't sure what to think of such a strange interaction, but she knew well enough to look perfectly content when Rick finally turned his attention back to her.

"She's really something, isn't she?" Rick said, shaking his head thoughtfully. "Have you ever met anybody that...just...smart, I guess?"

Isabelle maintained a polite smile. "They both seemed very nice. It was generous of you to offer such an opportunity."

_"She's_ the one who's gonna really find something out there," he said. "I mean, I just stumbled on Hamunaptra out of pure luck - me and my garrison - and I can't tell you why I went back there a few weeks ago. I always said I'd never go back, but I just...I had to, you know? I had to put it to rest. And dicking around there I found the treasure room...But that woman - she's the one who's gonna find something that makes a difference. You know what I mean?"

Isabelle nodded, though she wasn't really sure what he was talking about. How could he possibly care so much about the history at Hamunaptra? He hadn't had any interest in it until Evelyn Carnahan came rudely storming up to their table and interrupting their lunch.

Her thoughts must have shown a little on her face, because Rick winced all the sudden and said, "Guess this wasn't too great as first dates go, huh?"

She glanced up at him, biting back a smile, and winked. "Perhaps you could make it up to me."

He smirked in the most charming kind of way. "Alright. But I gotta tell you, if I have to get into another tux just to go pay too much for an undercooked steak, I'm gonna lose my mind. You wanna hit a pub on our side of town?"

Isabelle grinned and nodded her head, a new sense of relief washing over her body. She had no reason to worry over the likes of Evelyn Carnahan. She might have been pretty and passionate, but it was obvious Evelyn came from an entirely different world - a world that Rick would never feel comfortable in. Isabelle might not be able to impress Rick with her intelligence, but she had something even better. She shared Rick's background and social status, and he would surely latch onto that common bond before trying to win an overeducated British woman like Evelyn Carnahan.


	5. Découvert - Feb 4, 1926

_Disclaimer: The characters of _The Mummy_ and _The Mummy Returns_ are the property of Universal Studios__. The story is somewhat inspired by the movie _Original Sin_, and by the novel _A Reliable Wife _by Robert Goolrick, both of which have a similar premise to this._

* * *

**THE FOOLS**

* * *

**Découvert**

_Cairo, Egypt: February 4, 1926_

Beni had been feeling paranoid ever since Izzy had insinuated that the authorities were still looking for him (after three years! And over what? A snooty archeologist nobody even liked), and he decided to stay in the room rather than go out in broad daylight. He ordered room service, which had already become notoriously slow because Beni refused to pay the tips that the bell hops seemed to think he owed them for doing nothing more than carrying a tray and riding an elevator. So when he at last heard a knock on his door at a little after one, Beni didn't think to take the necessary precaution of glancing through the peephole before opening the door. He was hungry and irritated and he flung open the door, his face set in a preemptive scowl, and it wasn't until he was being shoved and pushed past in his own doorway that he realized he'd made a grave error.

He stared in anxious shock as three men in Stetsons and cowboy boots tromped into his room, holding the door open for a beady-eyed woman with a swollen belly that entered the room before she did. Beni met her eyes and the manufactured grin on his face dampened to displeasure.

"That's him," she said, her voice every bit as loud and grating as he remembered. She rubbed the small of her back absently and shot him a glare. "Well don't just stand there, ya filthy varmint, get me a chair."

"Here, Eliza," one of the men said quietly, tugging out a chair from behind the desk in the corner. Beni tore his eyes away from Eliza long enough to recognize who was with her, and his stomach dropped.

Bumbling, spectacled Bernard Burns was helping Eliza into her seat, and Gabe Henderson was already tugging a tin of tobacco out of his pocket, but Beni wasn't too concerned over either of them. Not when Isabelle's former husband, Dave Daniels stood in the middle of the room with his arms crossed forebodingly over his chest, glaring at Beni with his narrowed blue eyes.

"So this is him," Dave said, spitting the words bitterly at the floor. He shook his head. "Gotta say, I was expectin' more."

Beni forced a nervous chuckle and held out his hand. "Gentlemen, I cannot say I know why you are here. Perhaps this is some kind of misunderstanding? My name is Vasily Petrov, and I am only a humble Russian businessman - "

"Your name's Beni Gabor, and these fellers already know you robbed Mr. Daniels there blind with your whore Frenchwoman," Eliza said, folding her hands on her belly.

Beni fought the urge to glare at her and pretended to blink in confusion, looking at Dave as if he'd never seen him before. "Mr. Daniels, was it?"

Dave snorted, glaring down at Beni's extended hand distastefully. "I ain't about to shake your hand, so you can just put it away."

Beni gulped and stuck his hands in his pockets. Dave was looking him over in studious disgust, and Beni tried to maintain an innocent façade.

"Awful nice suit you're wearin' there," Dave said implicatively.

Beni just cleared his throat. "Uh, thank you."

"Where's Isabelle?" Dave demanded.

Beni frowned in confusion, and started to make up an excuse about not knowing anyone named Isabelle, but Dave's famously short patience had worn out. He took Beni by his lapels and shoved him against the wall, holding him down with one arm while he fished his handgun out of its holster with the other. Beni's eyes widened and he tried to hold up his hands in retreat.

"She's out!" he said hurriedly. "I don't know when she will get back! Maybe she won't be back!"

Dave snorted, his eyes hard and dangerous. "You got my money?"

Beni gulped. "Uh - not on me, no - "

"I want my money," Dave said, jabbing the gun hard into Beni's ribs. He let out a yelp.

"Of course!" Beni nearly screeched, his eyes flitting nervous between Dave and his gun. He cleared his throat and said, "But - heh - you know, the judge already ruled that the money was Isabelle's - for alimony - "

Dave's eyes narrowed, and Beni flinched, squeezing his eyes shut and breathing a prayer in case the other man decided to kill him right then. Instead, Dave let out a grim chuckle, and Beni cautiously opened his eyes to see a cruel smirk on his face.

"Clever little som'bitch, ain't he?" Dave said, glancing back at his friends in something like amusement. "See, though, we thought 'a that, Mr. Gabor. and we brung it up with the judge, and he decided, seein' as how Isabelle was in breach 'a our - uh - our...What's the thing, Burns?"

"Prenuptial agreement," Burns supplied.

"Yeah, that thing," Dave said. "That that money don't rightly belong to Isabelle."

Even though he was pushed painfully against the wall and a Colt was biting him in the ribs, Beni couldn't help the suspicious expression that came over his face. He eyed Dave in confusion.

"What agreement?"

"Called a pre-nup," Burns said easily. "Rich feller like Dave got it in his best interests to protect his assets from gold-diggers, so they come up with terms...'course there weren't much to Dave and Isabelle's pre-nup 'cept a fidelity clause..."

Dave rolled his eyes in irritation, and he was so aggravated that he forgot Beni momentarily and let him drop against the wall, turning around to glare at Burns. "I _told_ you I trusted her."

Bernard held up his hands innocently. "I was just explainin' - "

"Well you don't gotta use that tone about it. We know - _we all know_ - I got taken for a ride!"

"Okay, Dave. I'm sorry. I really wasn't meanin' it like that."

Beni rubbed his sore ribs, feeling a little better for the opportunity to stand on his own and catch his breath. He looked at Dave as seriously and innocently as he could.

"Mr. Daniels, I am terribly sorry for your misfortune, but you have made some kind of mistake. Isabelle could not possibly have been unfaithful to you. She is a virtuous woman who holds marriage in the highest regard - "

Dave whirled around to glare at Beni again, pointing an accusatory finger at him. "I have it on good authority you were fuckin' her in every room 'a my house when I was movin' cattle up Kansas-ways back in July."

Beni fought desperately to look puzzled. "It could not have been me - "

"It was you and ever'body who works for Mr. Daniels knows it!" Eliza cut in. Beni turned and stared at her, his eyes wide with anger and shock.

"You!"

"Yes,_ me,_ ya no-good weasel," Eliza retorted. "I told 'im all about you and that little tart, and I'd tell 'im again, too."

"You stupid bitch! I gave you five hundred dollars - "

She only scoffed. "Five hundred bucks don't get nobody too far when you're in the family way times two, and don't act like you don't know they're yours."

The grin Beni forced on his face looked more like a grimace. "Are you pregnant? I could not even tell..."

Eliza glanced down at her wide, round belly before glaring up at him again. "You're so full 'a malarkey it's a wonder you can ever keep a straight face."

"We had a deal," Beni said.

"Well I made a better deal," Eliza told him haughtily, sticking her big and hawkish nose in the air. She was every bit as ugly as Beni remembered, and he couldn't bear to look at her stupid birdlike face another second. He turned back to Daniels, but the man's expression wasn't any more pleasant, and it seemed to just then occur to Beni that Dave had been there to hear his squabble with Eliza.

"I'm givin' you til tomorrow mornin' to get my money."

Beni winced, wringing his hands nervously. "Oh, but Mr. Daniels, having it all together by tomorrow morning just would not be possible. It's spread through several, eh, Swiss accounts and - "

Dave's eyes narrowed. "I don't care. I'm comin' back here tomorrow mornin', and the mornin' after that, and the mornin'_ after that_ - and one 'a these goddamn mornin's you best be havin' my money, son, 'cause if you don't, my patience will run out and criminal charges'll be the least 'a your problems. You hear me?"

Beni gulped and nodded his head. Dave gave him one last warning glare before turning to his companions, which must have been all the more he needed to do to let them know he was ready to leave. Henderson got the door and Burns helped Eliza out of her chair, and she couldn't resist giving Beni one last jab before she lumbered out of the room:

"I'ma find a judge to make you pay for these here young'ins. Don't think I won't!"

Beni just rolled his eyes and told her to go to hell in Hungarian, but she ignored him and went on her way out the door. Suddenly it was just him and Dave in the room together. Beni glanced between Daniels and the door hopefully, waiting for the man to stop glaring at him and go on his way, but he kept standing there, and it was making Beni uncomfortable.

"Don't know what she could possibly see in you," Dave said at last, shaking his head. "Gave that woman everything."

Beni smirked in a grim kind of way. "My friend,_ I_ have given her everything."

Dave just snorted incredulously and grumbled curses as he strode out of the room, leaving Beni alone at last. He let out a shaking sigh and darted over to the door, quickly twisting the locks and putting on the chain for good measure. That made him feel a little better, and he trudged over to the liquor cabinet to make himself a drink. With all of this trouble already, he needed it.

It was bad enough there was still a warrant out on him because of that damned Dr. Chamberlain's disappearance...That was bad enough. But now he had Isabelle's angry ex-husband after him for money he'd already spent a sizable portion of, and all because Eliza wasn't smart enough to be careful and got herself pregnant.

Stupid, hook-nosed Eliza.

He never should have gotten into bed with her. It certainly wasn't for wanting her. Eliza was the head housekeeper at Daniels' ranch and she pretty well ran things at the house. She was a lonely widow who'd lost her equally ugly husband in the Great War, and Beni happened to meet her at a bar he'd been wasting his evenings at while Isabelle and Dave were on their honeymoon. Beni couldn't say he was the least bit attracted to her, with her broad hips and thick, shapeless legs and a chest flatter than he'd ever seen on an adult woman. She was taller than most men and walked stooped like a vulture to try and hide it, which only made her lackluster features more prominent. He hadn't wanted her, but he was desperate for a woman and the stupid county Daniels' ranch was situated in had very strict laws against prostitution. After two weeks without Isabelle or anyone else who would have him, Beni was willing to take what he could get, and he got Eliza.

He supposed he liked that she was willing and available, but he didn't really have much use for her until Daniels took that trip last July. He coaxed her into letting him stay at the house with Isabelle, which he used as an opportunity to sift through Dave's finances and calculate just how much they could reasonably take from him. Isabelle told everyone Beni was her brother, and even though it was more than evident that they were sleeping together, the servants were too terrified of Eliza to breathe a word about it to Daniels, even when Isabelle brought up the divorce shortly after his return.

Beni_ thought_ he was covered. He'd begrudgingly paid Eliza her money and he'd listened to her endless whining about the loss of her stupid, beaver-faced husband Lyle, and he thought they left on fairly amicable terms. It wasn't his fault she'd gotten pregnant. She was married once. She should have known how to prevent that.

Breathing an irritated sigh, Beni got up to make himself another drink and settled back into his chair again. He was going to have to find some way to put off Dave Daniels, and quickly. Beni didn't doubt that the man would keep coming back to his hotel room, and he knew from Isabelle's stories that it wouldn't take more than two or three days for him to get fed up.

Beni took a long sip from his glass. He could leave Egypt. He could leave right now and never return, and then it would be Isabelle's problem. He'd lied about putting Dave's money in an account; he didn't trust banks, and he had it all in cash in a safe the hotel had courteously provided. He could leave with what he had and go somewhere else.

He put his glass down and reached into his pocket for his cigarettes before realizing he'd left them on the desk, next to the newspaper. He saw Rick's face and the story about his discovery again, and his stomach tightened. If Beni left now, he would never get that money. He'd be a criminal on the run, and Rick would be a big, rich hero - and probably still be fucking Isabelle to boot. Rick didn't deserve that money, and Isabelle belonged to Beni. He wasn't just going to abandon everything with barely enough money to make it through the year, and without Isabelle to con more for him. He couldn't dare lose her. He'd never be able to replace her.

There had to be another way to divert Daniels and still have a chance to ruin O'Connell. Taking a determined breath, Beni set his drink aside and lit a cigarette. He was going to need a clear head if he wanted to figure this out.


	6. L'intrigue - Feb 4, 1926

_Author's Note: Man, this chapter was just an albatross, and I don't even know why! There were a couple things I knew had to happen next after last chapter, but I just could not figure out the right way to arrange them, or what scenes to even use this chapter. Anyway, here it is._

_Disclaimer: The characters of _The Mummy_ and _The Mummy Returns_ are the property of Universal Studios__. The story is somewhat inspired by the movie _Original Sin_, and by the novel _A Reliable Wife _by Robert Goolrick, both of which have a similar premise to this._

* * *

**THE FOOLS**

* * *

**L'intrigue**

_Cairo, Egypt: February 4, 1926_

"Okay," Isabelle said, pushing a stray hair out of her eyes and staring persistently at Beni. "That's everything. Now can you tell me why we have switched rooms?"

Beni collapsed into the nearest chair and loosened his tie, glaring down at the suitcases scattered across the floor dismally. "Your darling Mr. Daniels is in town."

Isabelle's eyes widened, and for a moment she just stood and stared at him in shock. "Dave is here?"

"Yep."

"But why?"

Beni grumbled something to himself in Hungarian, digging into his pocket for a cigarette. Isabelle let out an impatient sigh. "Beni, why is he here?"

He glanced up at her tersely, his lips set in a kind of grimace around his cigarette, and he waited until he'd lit it and taken the first puff to tell her, "Why do you think? He wants your alimony money."

Isabelle frowned. "But why...? He came to our room?"

Beni nodded, taking a long drag off of his cigarette.

"But he does not even know who you are."

Beni let out a bitter little scoff. "He does now."

She stared at him in confusion for a moment, thinking briefly that he might be insinuating that Isabelle had told Dave about Beni, but realization quickly dawned on her. A sickening feeling sank to the pit of her stomach.

"Eliza told him?"

Beni glanced up and met her eyes, and the expression on his face was enough to answer her question. Despite herself, Isabelle let out an irritable sigh.

"I told you staying at the house was a bad idea."

His glare shot up to hers. "Well it's a little too late to harp at me for that, isn't it?"

Isabelle shook her head, crossing the room to the liquor cabinet. She'd gone for a drink with Rick in a dark, crumbling little bar on the edge of the slums. It was the sort of place she'd been happy to be rid of once she married Raymond, but being there with Rick made her feel safe. He carried at least two pistols in plain sight, and she'd be willing to bet he had more hidden somewhere on his person, and he was so big and broad that no one dared to approach either of them. They'd sat together and had a few beers, and when he dropped her off at her hotel, she'd felt warm and light. But as soon as she made it to her room and found Beni frantically piling their clothes into various suitcases, her head cleared, and she was too alarmed and curious to feel groggy anymore.

Now that she knew what the big ordeal was, she wished she was still feeling the sleepy hum of beer in her system. She found a bottle of Irish whiskey and set to making herself a drink.

"So what are we going to do?" she asked quietly, unaware of her white-knuckled grip around the neck of the whiskey bottle. Her back was too him, but she heard him let out a whiny sort of sigh and could imagine the way he was pinching the bridge of his nose. She took a drink from her glass.

"I don't know," he said, his voice tense with exasperation. "That is why we changed rooms - to buy some time."

Isabelle turned around and looked at him incredulously. "If he found us in Egypt from Texas, he will certainly find us in the same hotel."

Beni frowned at her in something like offense. "You don't think I am smarter than your idiot American husband? I will figure this out, like I've always figured everything out. Maybe you have forgotten, but if it wasn't for me, you would still be living in an alleyway in Algiers."

Isabelle stared at him and he stared back, that cruel and ugly look on his face that he always wore when he said something to upset her on purpose. She knew he was only saying it because he was frustrated, and she supposed she wasn't helping to put him at ease, or to figure anything out...but his words bothered her just the same. She took another drink from her whiskey and closed her eyes until the threatening sting of tears left her eyes.

"There is something else," Beni said after a moment. Isabelle opened her eyes, but he wasn't looking at her. "Eliza is very pregnant. She has convinced your precious Mr. Daniels that it's mine."

Isabelle blinked in confusion, studying the set of his face to see if she could find the truth. She fought the suspicion itching in her stomach and asked very calmly:

_"Is_ it yours?"

Beni's eyes darted up to hers in a defensive glare. "Of course not. Do you really believe I would betray you for that ugly old bitch?"

Isabelle took a little sip from her glass. "There is no need to be cruel."

"Well it's not mine," he said, his voice just a little too whiny. "I never laid a finger on Eliza, but she has convinced Mr. Daniels so that she can take more of our money."

Isabelle let out a sigh, feeling strange and dismal. The sun was low on the horizon and they'd need to turn on a lamp soon, but for now the room was an orangey kind of dark and there was nothing she could do but lean against the wall and sip at her drink. She tried not to wonder if Eliza's pregnancy was Beni's fault.

Eliza was not the usual sort of woman Beni saw when Isabelle was married - and she _did_ know he saw women, much as he denied it. She'd known he went to prostitutes while she was married to Raymond, and she tried not to blame him. She _didn't_ blame him. How could she be angry with him when she was sleeping in another man's bed? It wasn't fair to expect him to stay true to her during those times...but she'd never liked it.

Still, at least he only saw women who were only interested in his money, and at least if they got pregnant, they'd never be able to blame it on him. That was probably the most bothersome thing about Eliza; if she said the child was Beni's, it probably was. How many other men in town would even have her? In addition to her unfortunate looks, she was a strict, unpleasant person. She always wore black even though her husband had been dead for years, and she never smiled about anything. All of the other servants were scared of her - and Isabelle had been a little frightened of her, too. She had those sharp little eyes and that grim expression, and it always seemed as though she was calculating everything.

"How did Eliza know we were coming to Egypt?" Isabelle asked.

Beni glanced up in confusion. "What?"

"We could have gone anywhere. How did she know we came here?" She really tried to keep her voice as even as possible, but it was difficult when she felt so frustrated and Beni seemed to be hiding the truth from her. She took a breath, "Did you tell her?"

"Of course not," he snapped. "Why would I tell Eliza anything?"

"I don't know."

His eyes narrowed at her suspiciously, and his fingers were tense as he ground his cigarette into the ashtray. "I did not tell that bird-face anything. And I did not sleep with her. Stop looking at me like that."

Isabelle glanced away from him and finished her drink. She didn't know what to say or what to think, but she wished the whiskey was doing more to calm her nerves. In a way, she wished she had stayed with Rick; she wished she had put a hand on his arm and looked up at him with big, desirous eyes and kissed him in such a way that he would have invited her back to his hotel room. She could have stayed the night with Rick and never would have even known Dave was in town or that Eliza was pregnant...but she supposed she would have had to come back eventually.

Maybe it showed on her face, how she wished she'd stayed with Rick, because suddenly Beni sneered, "How was your 'lunch' with O'Connell? Or did you even eat?"

Isabelle looked up, feeling even worse for the envy that twitched on his face, and let out a sigh. "We ate."

He snorted, occupying himself with picking another cigarette to smoke. "And then what? You were out all afternoon."

"We had a drink," she told him, a frown settling between her eyes.

"And?"

"And that was all!" she told him, feeling a flush of embarrassment rise to her cheeks. Before she could think to stop herself, she was pouring another whiskey. _"Mon Dieu,_ I wish you were not acting so strangely over this man."

"I'm not acting strangely."

"You have never acted this way," she said, glaring down into the gold-ish depths of a whiskey she wasn't entirely sure she wanted.

"Maybe I am just curious."

Isabelle turned and looked at him, incredulous and impatient from sifting her way through everything he had said to her. "I don't know what you want me to do, Beni. You say we need Rick's money, but you get cross with me every time I go out with him - and it has only been a day! And now Dave is after us, and we cannot just keep switching hotel rooms - "

Beni's eyes narrowed at her darkly. "I will figure it out. I told you."

Isabelle sighed and took a sip from her glass. She had poured the drink, so she might as well have it now. She could feel him watching her, his brow still furrowed up in a scowl, and she imagined he was terribly angry with her. But when she put her drink down and looked at him again, she could see he was more thoughtful than irritated. His cigarette dangled between his fingers and he only lifted it now and then to take a drag.

Isabelle crossed the room and flicked on the lamp before turning and walking over to the window to close the curtains. The streetlamps were lit and she could see well-dressed tourists laughing as they piled into cabs to "slum it" in the most popular casbahs; she could see street vendors gathering just close enough to the entrance to try and hawk artifacts of questionable credibility, and further down, in places the light from the lamps couldn't quite touch, she was certain she could make out the forms of expensive Egyptian prostitutes waiting for the right kind of curious passer-by to step out and ask for a cigarette light. She closed the curtains to those people and the careless little world they lived in, wishing that she could shut herself away in a place as simple and free as theirs.

"I want you to go back to O'Connell," Beni said very slowly. The sound of his voice made Isabelle jump, and she whirled around to look at him in confusion.

"Right now?"

He nodded his head and took a drag from his cigarette. When he pulled it away, he couldn't hide a pleased smirk. "Take all of your clothes and shit, and tell him everything."

Isabelle frowned, crossing her arms over her chest. "What do you mean, everything?"

"Tell him about me. Tell him that I put you up to seducing him out of his money, and that you've done it before and your last husband is after you."

"Why would I tell him such a thing?"

Beni shrugged, so smug and impressed with himself that he couldn't hardly keep the action as nonchalant as he probably would have liked. "Because O'Connell is going to take care of Mr. Daniels for us. Go to him and tell him we got into a big fight, and I threw you out. Tell him you do not want to seduce him for his money because...I don't know...he is _such a good person_ or something."

Isabelle stared at him, too surprised to speak. But Beni only looked back at her and grinned. "Bring me a drink,_ mon cher._ I am a genius."

Isabelle felt numb as she fumbled through the bottles in search of vodka and poured a little into a glass for him. She crossed the room and held it out to him at arm's length, but he took her by the wrist and pulled her into his lap, taking the drink and finishing it off in one swig. He stared up into her startled dark eyes and his leering grin dampened a little. He set the glass on the table and looked at her there in his lap, disgruntled.

"Am I an idiot dressed like Santa Claus? Why are you sitting like that?" he asked, and made her climb into the chair facing him, her knees on either side of his body. "Kiss me," he told her, "I am a genius."

So Isabelle kissed him, even though she wasn't sure his plan was so ingenious. Beni could always figure things out...and he was usually right, but...well, something about this didn't feel right. She wasn't quite sure why she felt so uneasy about Beni's plan, but she was too distracted by that strange feeling in the pit of her stomach to really kiss him back. She felt his lips frown against hers, and met his eyes reluctantly.

"What is the matter with you? You are about to go and move in with O'Connell, and who knows when you will see me again."

Isabelle stared at him, bewildered. "Where are you going?"

Beni grinned and tipped her chin condescendingly. "That is the beauty of the plan, _mon cher_. You will not know. After O'Connell sees your face he will have to come over here and beat me up, but I will be long gone."

"But where - "

"Ah, ah, ah," he stopped her, pressing a finger to her lips. "I will find you, when the time comes. For now, I will be gone, and of course I will have taken all of Mr. Daniels' money, so you will have none to pay him back. And O'Connell will pay him off out of pity. We will have your stupid husband off of our backs and O'Connell will think he can trust you. It's perfect. Now tell me what a genius I am."

She was barely able to tell him he was a genius before he was kissing her hard. She gently turned her head away, "But Beni - "

He let out an impatient sigh and rolled his eyes. "What?"

"Won't Rick be suspicious if I just show up like that tonight?"

Beni eyed her darkly. "You will just have to be very convincing, I guess." Isabelle sighed. "Also I thought I could give you a black eye. He will be so angry that I hit you that he will not think to question your story."

Isabelle winced a little. "Couldn't I just do it with make-up?"

Beni raised his eyebrows incredulously. "Do you want to go to Paris or not?"

She pressed her lips together and nodded her head.

"Why don't you cheer up, eh? We will be in Paris soon," he said, pulling her closer so that she could feel him through his trousers and tugging her skirt up her thighs. "Now, show me how much you will miss me."

* * *

The cool of the evening had settled over Cairo, and Henderson thought it was so pleasant, they might as well take their late dinner outside. The inside of the restaurant was crowded, mostly around the bar, and that was the kind of place Dave Daniels would have preferred to be. But he supposed there was something nice about their quiet table and the vacant veranda. As far as he could tell, there was only one other man out there, keeping to himself with a book. And even though it was quiet, it wasn't like it was_ too_ quiet. Curious foreign cars rushed past on the street and pretty tourists strolled by on the sidewalk, tossing flirty smiles and giggles at their table as they went on their way. Eliza regarded them with a kind of haughty snort every single time one passed, but Dave didn't pay her much mind. Eliza might have bullied a lot of people - hell, her bullying might have been the primary reason Dave hired her on to run his house at all - but she didn't intimidate_ him_ any. She could snort and huff all she wanted, as far as Dave was concerned.

"Think he'll cough up that dough by the end 'a the week?" Henderson asked around a massive wad of chewing tobacco. "Promised Jethro I'd go huntin' with him this weekend..."

"He better cough it up by then," Dave said, crossing his arms on the table. "Don't got no patience to wait long in this godforsaken mess 'a country."

"It's mighty evil," Eliza said, eyeing the dark-skinned waiter as he came to their table and silently arranged their drinks in front of them. "You can tell they ain't got the presence 'a the Lord here."

Burns shrugged. "I don't know, 'Liza. English folks are Christian - "

"Well they ain't _real_ born-again Christians, and you oughtta know, Bernard Burns. Was or wasn't your daddy's brother a Baptist preacher man?"

Burns cleared his throat and loosened his collar, nervously taking a sip from his drink.

"Well wasn't he?" Eliza persisted, glaring down at his glass of bourbon. "And he did so protest the consumption 'a spirits, too."

Dave rolled his eyes. "Eliza, was or wasn't you at Joe Whitson's illegal waterin' hole when you got yourself knocked up by that skinny weasel foreigner?"

Eliza sniffed and crossed her arms over her chest. "The past is the past, Mr. Daniels. I paid for my sins, ain't I? Got strapped with two youg'ins in my belly, so you can't say I didn't get mine. And you got your'n, too, cavortin' with that Frenchie what's-her-name and soilin' your marriage bed - "

Dave huffed an impatient sigh, _"You might recall_ marryin' her's what caused the whole damn problem, so I don't see what screwin' around beforehand has to do with it."

"Fornication is a sin we pay for, Mr. Daniels," she said with an air of finality.

Dave grumbled a few curses into his bourbon and took a long drink. "Well that Beni Gabor feller's got bigger sins to pay off than that one."

For the first time all day, Eliza cracked a smile, though it looked more like a smug grimace and somehow managed to make her features all the more unpleasant.

"And Judgment Day is a-comin'!" she declared. "Amen."

Eliza was reaching for Burns' glass of bourbon, saying something about a celebratory sip, and Burns was trying to find a polite way to dissuade his drink out of her hand, but they were both interrupted by a deep, cultured voice:

"Pardon me," said the man who'd been quietly sitting at the other table. Dave looked up and frowned, meeting the gentleman's dark, vacant eyes and disliking the haughty set of his mouth. He pulled the long pipe from his lips and looked at them evenly, the light from the streetlamp glinting in his monocle. "But did you just mention a man named Beni Gabor?"


	7. Fou - Feb 4, 1926

_Author's Note: Hajna is a Hungarian name; Hajnal and Hajnalka are both diminutives of Hajnal (like calling a Jennifer Jen or Jenny). _

_Disclaimer: The characters of _The Mummy_ and _The Mummy Returns_ are the property of Universal Studios__. The story is somewhat inspired by the movie _Original Sin_, and by the novel _A Reliable Wife _by Robert Goolrick, both of which have a similar premise to this._

* * *

**THE FOOLS**

* * *

**Fou**

_Cairo, Egypt: February 4, 1926_

Isabelle's heart hadn't stopped pounding since she arrived at Rick's hotel room over an hour ago, and she'd had to keep reminding herself to breathe ever since he turned and strode out of the room without a word, slamming the door behind him. She'd rushed after him and opened the door, and asked him what to do. He'd told her to relax, take a bath or something.

_Please don't hurt him, _she'd called, but she wasn't sure Rick heard her. She also wasn't sure it would matter if he had. Rick's hands were curled into big fists and he stalked down the hall like a dangerous man, and she knew he'd hurt Beni if he had the chance. Beni had told her he'd be long gone, and she wouldn't even know where he went, but Isabelle had to believe that if he was in this city to be found, Rick would find him.

Reluctantly, she'd slipped back into the hotel room and locked the door, standing in the middle of the room idly for what felt like a long time. Her whole body pumped with a nervous kind of energy, and made her throbbing face hurt all the more. She reached her trembling fingers up to her eye and forced back a wince. She was still a little angry with Beni for forgetting that he was wearing that silly ruby ring when he hit her - knocking her down with a force that surprised her and opening a little gash just under her eye. There'd been blood on the carpet and she'd let out a surprised yelp even though she'd been braced for the hit, and just then he noticed that he was wearing the ring.

She asked him what was the matter with him, cutting open her face like that, and he assured her that someday they would laugh about this over the finest French wine. But when she'd caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, she wasn't so sure this would ever be a laughing matter. And she'd been skeptical that, for all of his assured genius, Beni's plan would even work on O'Connell. Why should Rick believe her when she claimed she and Beni got into a fight over their con? If she was willing to marry him just to steal his money, surely it wasn't so unbelievable that she'd take a black eye for it.

But Rick hadn't questioned her. She showed up at his hotel room, heart racing, and before she could even utter a word, he demanded what happened to her. His voice was so urgent and harsh, and Isabelle's nerves were already twisted so tight, that she couldn't help but burst into tears when she tried to relay something of the story Beni had instructed her to tell. When she mentioned Beni's name, Rick's eyes widened, and he stalked across the room for his coat before demanding where they were staying. And then he was gone.

He was gone, and she idled in his room alone, desperate for a drink and an aspirin. After a while, she decided she might as well take that bath.

She felt strange and breathless as she turned on the water and got undressed, and every minute she just wished Rick would return and ease her anxiety - or at least throw her out as she feared he might. What if Beni hadn't gotten out of the room quickly enough? What if Rick found him? Would Beni be willing to stand by his ruse then, or would he tell Rick this was somehow all her fault?

Isabelle glanced up at her reflection in the mirror, her stomach twisting as she noticed that ugly purple color creeping around her bruised eye. Rick had known who Beni was; she could tell when she said Beni's name. Rick knew him, and Isabelle might have suspected that he did, even though Beni had assured her he'd never met Rick O'Connell.

Rick knew Beni, and perhaps that was the reason Beni had been so convinced his plan would work at all. Rick hadn't wasted a moment questioning Isabelle's story - not after she mentioned Beni's name - so he must know the kind of person Beni was, or at least thought he did. Everyone thought they knew Beni. Everyone always thought they could look at him and tell just who he was - Isabelle saw it all the time. They thought he was ugly and skinny and shifty and pathetic, and no one ever really gave him a chance. And Isabelle knew he had his faults, but, well...he wasn't so bad. She knew he wasn't. He'd taken her in and given her everything, and he hadn't been obligated to. He was smart and talked fast and he could be really funny sometimes, and she knew - she just _knew_ - he wasn't worth dismissing.

Isabelle sunk into the water and breathed a sigh, willing the steam to relax her nerves. But she couldn't stop thinking about how late it was getting. She couldn't stop wondering where Rick was, and if he'd found Beni - if not at the hotel, then somewhere else. Where would he have gone to hide? She knew Beni had lived in Cairo for a while, but he'd always made it sound like a wretched, friendless place. She'd been surprised he wanted to come back at all, but he was always easily enticed by a millionaire. Still, Rick O'Connell was no bumbling tourist. He'd grown up in Cairo, and he surely knew all the seediest places to hide, too.

She was just starting to think that Rick _had_ found Beni and was probably beating him senseless that very minute when she heard the jingle of a key in the lock. She sucked in a breath and held it, paralyzed in the bathtub while the door swung open and shut again, and Rick let out a loud sigh.

"You still here?"

Isabelle cleared her throat and managed to tell him weakly, "In here."

She heard trudging footsteps and then Rick appeared in the doorway of the bathroom, his tie undone and his suit in general disarray. He met her eyes in something like defeat.

"Well. I don't know where the hell he is, but I don't think he'll be bothering you anymore."

Isabelle let out a shaking sigh, thrusting her hands under the water to hide the way they trembled with relief. Then he_ hadn't_ found Beni. He hadn't found Beni, and he still believed her story. She was as safe as she could hope to be.

Rick stepped casually into the bathroom and leaned against the sink, his gaze flitting between looking at her and looking away. After a moment he turned and occupied himself with adjusting his appearance in the mirror.

"So how's a nice person like you wind up with a guy like that?" he asked.

Isabelle looked up and caught his eyes through the mirror. "He helped me."

"Well you'd be the first person he ever helped."

She glanced down, trying to force her heart back to a normal pace. "How do you know Beni?"

Rick frowned in the mirror and let out a sigh. "We met in the Legion. He never mentioned that we knew each other when he was coming up with this whole plan?"

Isabelle shook her head. "He said he didn't know you at all."

Rick scoffed.

"But he insisted I tell you my name was Gabor."

Rick just raised his eyebrows. "Well, that's interesting." He stopped fiddling with his tie and turned around to look into her dark eyes. "So what_ is_ your name?"

"The latest is Daniels," she said slowly. "Before that it was DuBois. I didn't have one before that."

Rick crossed his arms over his chest, and she couldn't tell if he was irritated with her or just surprised when he said, "So this isn't your first county fair, huh?"

Isabelle sighed. "I've had two husbands...Beni is really gone?"

"Yep," he said, scratching the back of his neck. "Desk clerk said he checked out like an hour and a half ago, and I tried a couple places I thought he might be, but no one's seen him."

She nodded her head, staring at her hands under the water. She wanted desperately to stay quiet - to just sit in the tub until the water got too cool to bear - but the lie slipped out of her lips as if it had a life of its own, and once it was out, she didn't dare take it back:

"He's frightened. My last husband, Dave Daniels, found him today. He wants the money back. We were arguing over what to do. That's when he hit me."

Rick just shook his head, unable to hide the disgusted grimace on his face. "He's a real peach."

Isabelle sat up a little. "He's been good to me."

"Yeah," Rick scoffed, motioning at her eye. "I can see that."

She pressed her lips together and looked away. No one understood Beni, not even Rick, who claimed he knew him. And Isabelle supposed there was no sense in arguing over it, especially when the plan depended on Rick believing she had nothing to do with Beni anymore.

She glanced up at Rick and tried to smile. "Would you hand me a towel, please?"

He tugged one out of the wrack and held it out to her, and Isabelle gingerly stepped out of the bathtub, watching in something like amusement as Rick kept his eyes down on the rug.

"Thank you," she said, wrapping the towel around herself. He glanced up at met her eyes.

"Look," he said, "wherever Beni is, he has all your money and you've got nowhere to go. Why don't you stay here for a couple days and I'll see if I can help you sort things out with this husband."

Isabelle stared at him, and even though Beni had assumed Rick would be so generous to her, she couldn't help but be a little taken aback by his kindness. She swallowed hard and nodded her head.

"Thank you."

Rick glanced away from her and nodded his head, awkwardly jerking a thumb at the other room. "Why don't you, uh, get dressed and we'll just call it a night."

Isabelle smiled and wrapped an arm around his neck, pulling his lips down to hers. He kissed her softly and took half a step back, and she met his eyes quizzically.

"I know my face looks ridiculous right now, but I just wanted to say thank you."

She saw his throat jerk, and he reached a hand up to the side of her face, his thumb brushing her bruised eye so gently that she didn't even wince.

"You don't look ridiculous," he told her sincerely. And then he pulled her into his arms and kissed her hard.

* * *

Beni knew the first place O'Connell would look for him after the hotel was Hajna's apartment, so he hid out in a mosque just around the corner for maybe an hour, laying prostrate on the ground and praying enough to make up for the past several days' negligence. And Allah must have figured that was penance enough, because when he crept back into the dark street and stole into the familiar, crumbling tenement building, O'Connell was nowhere in sight.

He hadn't been to the building - or any like it - since he left that awful, sagging room he'd rented in Algiers, and he hadn't really cared to return to any such place again. Ever since Isabelle divorced Raymond, Beni had enjoyed nice clothes and nice beds and clean rooms, and he felt a kind of grumbling dread at the thought of returning to the miserable room he'd once shared with Hajna.

He felt even more dread at returning to Hajna, but he figured he could fake his way into her good graces. Hajna wasn't so hard to win over.

At last he came to the top floor, his feet aching from climbing all of those steps, and trudged down the hall to that same, worm-eaten door. Nothing had changed in three years, except perhaps rotten things had rotted a little more; he heard a rat skitter behind him and let out a yelp, casting a fearful glance to see where it had went. Anxiously, he knocked on the door, glancing behind him all the while to be sure the rat wasn't going to come back and bite him.

The door flew open and Beni forgot about the rat, turning instead to meet the blazing gray glare of a woman he'd hoped he had left for good three years ago.

"You!" she shouted in Hungarian, wagging an accusatory finger at him.

Beni dug up his most charming grin and opened his arms to her. "My dear, sweet Hajnalka!"

"Don't you 'Hajnalka' me, Bence! I would slit your throat just for the fillings in your teeth! Where the hell have you been?"

Beni took a cautious step backwards, fighting to keep the smile on his face. "Oh, you surely do not mean that, my dearest. I have come_ all this way_ after _three long years_ just to gaze upon your beautiful face, and you would speak so cruelly to me?"

Hajna's eyes narrowed, and her bony fingers grappled a hold on his arm and jerked him into the room, slamming the door shut behind him. "Rick O'Connell came here looking for you. Do you remember him? I said I had not seen you in three goddamn years but I let him search the apartment, anyway. If you were here hiding, I would have let him kill you and I'd help him bury the hacked off bits of your body and never breathe a word. Do you understand?"

Beni grimaced, but quickly regained himself, putting a hand on hers. "Now you could not possibly be so cross with me - "

She jerked her hand out from under his and crossed her arms over her chest. "I'd slit your throat for your teeth fillings!"

"You already said that."

"Well I would!" she shouted, stomping across the room for the half-empty bottle of gin on the floor. She gulped it back like water, and Beni held his breath, waiting for the drink to do its damage. Hajna was a wretched drunk, and it always made her so blubbering and sad, but it was still better than being shouted at and threatened.

"Hajnal, you are cross and I understand completely - "

She shook her head, taking another long gulp from the bottle. "You don't understand. You never understand anything."

"Oh, but my darling, dearest, sweet Hajnalka, you know that I worship the very ground you walk on."

Hajna eyed him incredulously and put the bottle down. "You left here three years ago without a word. Without a single word."

Beni took a few cautious steps towards her, and she didn't move. "But how could I risk telling you where I was going? I could never ask you to lie to the police for me."

Hajna blinked hard. "I would have lied..."

He kept walking until he stood just in front of her, and when he put a hand on her shoulder, she didn't flinch away. Her lips trembled and he was certain she would burst into tears at any moment, the way she always did when she drank too much gin, but she managed to keep a hold on herself and gazed up into his face.

She looked so confused, but she often was. There was something wrong with Hajna Varga, and everyone in their dismal little Budapest slum had known it since she was a child. She threw trantrums that her father couldn't seem to beat out of her, and sometimes wept furiously for no good reason at all. Her mother thought she had a demon and the priest tried at least three times to exorcize her, but whatever had a hold of Hajna didn't let go.

_That girl is ill,_ one of Beni's stepfathers used to say. _They should have locked her away a long time ago._

"I would have gone with you, but you left me here," she said in a shaking little voice, and then the tears came in an endless stream, and Beni let her wrap her arms around him and sob into his chest. She clung fast to him until she couldn't force out another cry, and then she looked up into his face and pulled him into a hard, biting kiss. She tugged at his clothes and he pushed her hard against the wall, anxious to be between her legs again.

Because as crazy as Hajna Varga was, she was certainly good for one thing, and by the time she was eighteen every man in their neighborhood knew it.

It was bad luck that Hajna's father found Beni with her in the bedroom she shared with her sisters that day. It could have been anyone else - really, anyone else at all, in the whole building. But Beni was with her that day and Hajna's father was so angry he dragged them both to the priest that very moment. Beni hadn't even had a chance to button his trousers until they were standing at the front of the church. After that, he was stuck with her.

"Please stay with me," she whispered desperately, her arms tight about his neck and her nails digging into his skin. "I'll do anything you want me to. I'll do anything. Just stay. No one ever stays."

He kissed her hard, if only to make her shut up. He didn't really want to think about the endless parade of men who'd likely stayed in that apartment, all of them for a pathetically short amount of time, because no one knew how to handle Hajna. No one ever had. She'd left Beni more than once to shack up with a new man who promised to treat her well, but he always sent her back - usually after she'd clubbed him with a frying pan or poured scalding soup into his lap. Most men had enough after that.

Beni had had enough of Hajna a long time ago, but he knew well enough not to make her angry or argue with her. He let her win everything, and that's how he managed to keep her from castrating him in the middle of the night. And he figured he could put up with her until Isabelle secured O'Connell's wealth, especially if Hajna was going to be so accommodating in bed. He was finishing and she was breathing his name in his ear and he was thinking this might not be so terrible, after all - and then the door behind them started to creak as someone attempted to force it open.

Beni jumped away from Hajna in surprise, staring at her in utter bewilderment and confusion, but she only blinked, a curious frown on her face.

"I forgot I gave him a key..."

"Who is it?" Beni demanded in a whisper, ready to dive for the nearest window. It might have still technically been his apartment, and Hajna might have been his wife, but Beni wasn't above hiding from whomever was putting up with her this week. In this neighborhood, Hajna was likely to have found a mountain of a brute to protect her from robbers - not that anyone who knew anything about Hajna was likely to creep into her apartment in the middle of the night.

Before Hajna could answer him, the door opened the rest of the way and Beni's wide eyes collided with Izzy's. They stared at one another in surprise for a moment before both their faces settled into disgruntled scowls.

"Goddamn it, Gabor, ain't it bad enough you show up at my place 'a work in your fancy fuckin' suit, now you gotta come shag me commonlaw wife, too?"

Hajna started to tell him that they hadn't been shagging, but Beni interrupted her:

"She's my wife, you stupid bastard. What are you doing here?"

Izzy put his hands on his hips. "I live here!"

Beni glared back at him in angry disbelief. _"I_ live here!"

"Not in three years, you ain't. And meanwhile who's to take care 'a sweet Hajna here? You abandoned her and that makes her fair game, ask anybody."

Beni raised his eyebrows incredulously. "I thought you were scared of her."

Izzy edged a few glances at Hajna and forced a nervous laugh. "Ah, now, how could I possibly say such 'a thing in regards to a delicate rose like me lovely here?"

Beni pointed an accusatory finger at him. "You just need the apartment."

"Wha - ? How - how_ dare_ you say such a thing about me! Hajna and me 're head over our bloody damn heels in love, and you and your fancy-schmancy suit can just go to hell."

Beni crossed his arms over his chest. "You can't throw me out of my own apartment."

"Well now, you ain't been payin' for the flat, have you? It's been me and that makes it mine, and I'll kick you out on your skinny arse and not lose a wink over it, neither." He turned to Hajna airily. "Go on and say the word, love. Throw him out by his collar, I will, and you can go back to havin' a_ real_ man 'twixt your sheets."

Beni scoffed smugly, digging in his pocket for a cigarette. "I think she's too worn out now."

Izzy's eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth to retort something, but Hajna interrupted him in her careful, accented English, "You can stay with us, Bence. But you cannot sleep with me in bed. That is...Izzy's place now."

Beni's cigarette nearly slipped from his lips, and it was all he could do to stare at her in utter disbelief for a long moment.

"You have got to be kidding."

"I do not kid."

"I paid for that bed!"

Hajna shrugged. "It is not yours. You can sleep in the chair, or you can leave."

Beni glared at her, but she just met his eyes with that vacant kind of look that frightened him, and he nodded his head uneasily. Izzy could barely hold back a loud chortle, but his laughter faded as Hajna drifted over to the stove.

"And now we will have a fine Hungarian meal, like my mother would make on Easter."

Izzy cleared his throat, a strained smile on his face. "Oh, but love, it's well past supper time - "

Hajna whirled around, a skillet clutched in her hand. "I want a fine Hungarian meal to celebrate all of us together!"

"Yep, alright," Izzy said hurriedly. "Fine Hungarian meal it is."

He met Beni's eyes warily and loosened his collar, just close enough to give him a nudge. "Welcome home, mate."


	8. Le Grand Lit de Cèdre - Feb 5, 1926

_Disclaimer: The characters of _The Mummy_ and _The Mummy Returns_ are the property of Universal Studios__. The story is somewhat inspired by the movie _Original Sin_, and by the novel _A Reliable Wife _by Robert Goolrick, both of which have a similar premise to this._

* * *

**THE FOOLS**

* * *

**Le Grand Lit de Cèdre**

_Cairo, Egypt: February 5, 1926_

"Hey."

Rick's soft, low voice woke Isabelle up with a start, and she squinted up at him in the bright light of mid-morning. Isabelle had always been a late sleeper, which used to get her into all kinds of trouble with the nuns at the orphanage she grew up in. But Beni never minded when she slept late, and Raymond and Dave had both had cooks and maids and other servants to take care of the house, and didn't mind if she slept the mornings away, either. She glanced at the clock and saw that it was a little after nine before turning her attention back to Rick, who was fully dressed and had his coat slung over his arm.

"I, uh, just wanted to let you know I have a breakfast...meeting...with that archeologist we met yesterday."

Isabelle sat up, pushing her hair out of her eyes. "Would you like me to come with you."

"Nah," Rick said just a little too quickly, his throat jerking with a nervous swallow. "I mean, it seems like you need your rest, and we're just talking about Hamunaptra anyway. I was gonna say, just order some room service or something when you get hungry."

Isabelle nodded her head, and Rick offered her a polite smile.

"I gotta go..."

She forced her most casual smile and nodded her head. "Of course. I will see you later."

He gave her a half-hearted wave and seemed uncomfortable as he strode across the room and slipped out into the hall, closing the door quietly even though she was already awake.

Isabelle let out a sigh, casting another dismal glance at the clock before deciding she might as well get up. She didn't know how long Rick's breakfast with Evelyn Carnahan could possibly take, but she'd be embarrassed if he came back and she was still in bed.

Secretly, she suspected Rick's breakfast "meeting" might take a while.

Though she couldn't imagine what a man like Rick could see in a woman as frumpy and staunch as Evelyn, but...well...she _was_ rather pretty. And she'd been smiling the whole time she talked about ancient Egypt, and everyone was more charming with a smile. And Rick didn't seem to think her overeducated rambling was haughty at all. He thought she was brilliant...

Isabelle let out a sigh and pulled herself out of bed, wishing that Beni was there so that she could ask him what to do. Rick already knew about their whole con; how could she possibly trick him into marrying her now? Certainly, Beni's plan to use Rick to pay off their debt to Dave was already working perfectly - but what then? Rick pitied her because he thought she was someone Beni had used and thrown away. He told her she could stay with him for a few days, and that he'd help her work matters out with Dave, and that was all. And Isabelle was starting to worry that she couldn't snag Rick - at least not this early. It was much too soon to try to claim she was pregnant, and even though he seemed to like her and enjoyed sleeping with her, she certainly couldn't count on that alone to keep his attention. Not when he was having breakfast with intelligent, excited Evelyn Carnahan.

She walked over to the suitcase she'd left in the middle of the floor and dug out her cosmetics. If she was beautiful and charming, Rick certainly couldn't refuse her. She could make him fall in love with her. She'd made other men love her, and she could make him.

She strode into the bathroom with a new sense of confidence, but her determination was quickly dashed as she looked at herself in the mirror and remembered the festering bruise just under her eye. She cursed at Beni under her breath and leaned closer, touching at the bruise as if she might be able to will the swelling to go down. That cut from Beni's stupid ring was going to scar. She'd told him not to buy it. The stone was set much too high off the band, which made it look like a woman's ring to Isabelle. But Beni didn't listen. He liked the way the setting made the ruby glitter in the light, and he wanted people to notice it on his finger.

With a sigh, Isabelle resigned herself to covering the bruise as best she could and started pulling out her make-up and brushes. At least Beni hadn't _quite_ hit her on the eye. She'd look utterly dreadful with one eye purple and swollen shut, but between a little foundation and rouge and powder, she could probably mask the bruise, even if the swelling _did_ make one of her eyes look smaller than the other...

She'd just started rouging her cheeks and lips when she heard a knock at the door. With a frown, Isabelle went back to her suitcase and found a robe to cover her nightgown before going to peer through the peephole in the door. She couldn't quite make out who was standing on the other side; the glass was so distorted and the hallway was quite dark even for that time of day, but with a sigh she decided to find out who was there. This was one of the nicest hotels in the city and it wasn't likely anyone too scary would make it past the lobby.

She cracked the door open just enough to see who was there, and her eyes widened in startled shock. Somehow a strange man in black desert robes had made it up to the room without being seen and escorted out by the hotel staff. The fact that he was an Arab alone should have been enough to keep him out of the building, but if that had somehow failed, than the unsettling tattoos over his face and hands should have been cause for a conscientious desk clerk to phone the police.

Isabelle's hand tightened on the doorknob, and she stared up at him suspiciously.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

He met her eyes with a dark, unreadable gaze. "Rick O'Connell."

Isabelle straightened a little where she stood, prepared to slam the door shut in his face if he should try to force his way into the room.

"He's not here right now," she said in a voice she tried desperately to keep calm and even.

The strange man let out a sigh, and his mouth twitched impatiently. "When will he be back?"

Isabelle pressed her lips together, unsure if she should tell him the truth or try to make it sound like Rick would return soon. She didn't know why such a foreboding man had come seeking Rick, but she was nervous at the prospect of being alone in the room just then.

"I don't know," she said at last. "But I can take a message for him."

The man frowned and shook his head. "No. It is imperative that I speak to him personally. Do you know where he has gone?"

Isabelle blinked, put off by his urgent tone and dramatic phrasing. She shook her head, not quite able to hide how puzzled she was by him. "He went to breakfast...I don't know where..."

The man sighed curtly and shook his head, rubbing his beard in exasperation. "I must speak to him immediately."

"Well he's not here," she retorted, a little more impatiently than she meant to. "And I don't know when he'll be back."

The man stared back at her, looking irritated and uncomfortable, but after a moment he took a step back and nodded his head. "I will return." And turned on his heel, his black cape swooshing behind him as he disappeared down the hall with surprisingly silent steps. Isabelle shrugged and closed the door. Whoever that strange man was, she supposed Rick could handle him.

It was strange, really, how little she worried just being with Rick. It wasn't just that he was so big and tall - though she supposed that was part of it. Rick had a presence, and people stepped aside when he walked down the street. People pushed and shoved past Beni, which would probably annoy him more if it wasn't such a good opportunity to pick pocket wallets, and Raymond had been just like any other person on the street. Dave had always walked with a fierce bravado, daring people to stand in his way, and he willfully elbowed his way past people to let them know he wanted through.

Dave had always wanted people to think he had a presence like Rick's, but Isabelle knew he was just volatile and aggressive. And even though she'd known he could handle himself, she worried when they went out, or when he did things on his own. Dave always had something to prove, and he was a hothead, and he'd never been above picking a fight.

She couldn't believe he'd tracked her down to Egypt for the alimony money.

Well, in a way she supposed she could; Dave never stood to be made a fool of. She just couldn't believe that he found out about the plot at all. How could it have happened? She couldn't imagine Beni telling Eliza anything, and they'd always been so careful, speaking only in French so that no one would understand them.

Her breath caught in her throat as she remembered that strange and daring week when Dave was gone and Beni dubiously stayed in the sprawling ranch house as her "brother." Beni always liked luxurious things and Isabelle was used to him arguing with waiters over the temperature of his food or whining to a launder about pressing his suit wrong. But he was almost unfamiliar as he paraded about Dave's house, smoking his cigars and drinking his whiskey and making fun of the longhorn heads that hung on his walls. If Isabelle didn't love him and know him the way that only she did, she might have thought he was being obnoxious, especially in the curt way he ordered around Dave's servants and seemed to leave the most annoying little messes everywhere he went on purpose.

They got into a big argument over where he should sleep, because even though Beni's advances were blatant enough to raise the suspicions of the servants, Isabelle still thought he should sleep in one of the guest rooms. _I'll come and see you, _she'd told him, _as soon as everyone's asleep. _But Beni wouldn't have it. He absolutely wouldn't be appeased unless he was sleeping in her husband's bed with her, which he found amusing even though it made Isabelle feel strange and uncomfortable. It was _Dave's_ bed. It had been in the family for years. His grandfather built the massive frame out of cedar he had shipped down from somewhere up north, and Dave had had a special mattress made just to fit it, and Isabelle thought it looked like it belonged in a palace.

Beni thought so, too, which was probably why he was so intent on sleeping and screwing her in it.

_I don't want to here. Let's use another room. This is why I wanted you to take a guest room - _

_I want to here. This is the best bed in the whole house. I have looked._

_Well I don't feel right about it._

_Oh, why? Is something suddenly sacred about this sham marriage I put you in?_

Isabelle had nothing to retort, and she let him have his way. But she felt bad about sleeping with Beni in Dave's bed, and she felt bad about letting him into the house when he was so beastly to Dave's servants and drank much more whiskey than Isabelle possibly could claim to drink on her own.

She was almost relieved when the week ended and he had to skulk back to the boarding house he'd been staying at.

Isabelle wondered where Beni was at now, and what he was doing. He'd assured her that he would find her, and she supposed she'd just have to trust him. With a sigh she went to finish getting ready, and when she was all dressed she decided that she couldn't sit in the room a moment longer. She had a little bit of cash in her purse and she'd find a café where she could have a cup of coffee and a pastry. She thought perhaps the fresh air would clear her head, even if it was as blistering hot as it looked through the window.

* * *

"Look," Dave said loudly, pulling the toothpick out of his mouth to point emphatically with it at the desk clerk. "I was just here yesterday, and they was in the room. They had all their shit in the room. And I'm needin' to know where they went."

The desk clerk glanced up at him, his mouth twitching with the want to frown. He reached a hand up and smoothed his thin mustache before asking calmly, "And what did you say were the name of the occupants?"

"His is Beni Gabor," Dave said, his patience tight as he stuck his toothpick between his teeth again. "Hers is Isabelle Daniels."

Eliza shouldered her way past Henderson and Burns to tug at Dave's elbow. "Now you know a fine, reputable place like this wouldn't be lettin' no unmarried folks stay in a room together - "

The desk clerk's lips strained a smile as he leafed through the pages of his ledger and told them absently, "We hold our clients' privacy in the highest regard. The Glenmont is known for its discretion."

Dave just let out a loud sigh and turned to Eliza testily. "We was just here yesterday an' found the varmint under his name. Why the hell're you arguin' with me about it?"

Eliza stuck her hands on her hips. "Well honey, they might 'a just moved rooms after you scared the dickens out that skinny son-of-a-gun."

Dave just rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the desk clerk. "You got any notion where they are?"

The desk clerk flipped a page and his eyes brightened. He pulled out a scrap of paper pasted to yesterday's page and held it out.

"Apparently they checked out yesterday," he said. "But the clerk last night took down this note from Mr. Gabor. Perhaps it'll offer you some clarity?"

Dave ripped the paper out of his hands and studied it with a furrowed brow, disbelief slowly taking over his face and making the toothpick drop out of his mouth and onto the floor. He glanced up and met the curious eyes of his friends, while Eliza tried to nose her way closer to read the message over his shoulder.

"What's it say?" Burns asked.

Dave let out a snort and held it out to him. " 'Parently Eliza's sweetheart there and Isabelle got into a spat, 'cause they split ways. Says I can find her with Rick O'Connell, whoever the hell that is."

Burns nodded, skimming over the neat handwriting thoughtfully. "He's got this O'Connell feller's hotel and room number...Think it's all a lot 'a crock?"

Dave shrugged. "Is or ain't, they got some mind 'a where Gabor is, we oughtta tack 'em down. That Chamberlain feller's offerin' too much reward for me to let that slimy little rat slip through my fingers twice."

"I hear you there," Henderson said, pulling out his chewing tobacco to the chagrin of the desk clerk.

Dave took the note from Burns' hand and stuffed it into his pocket, silently thanking the desk clerk with a tip of his hat before striding across the lobby and out the door. His friends and Eliza were close at his heels. He stepped out into the hot, dusty sunlight, squinting against the blistering brightness as his eyes slowly adjusted from the welcoming dark of the hotel, and stood with determination on the curb with his hand held up to hail a cab. He chewed absently on his toothpick, smiling with a kind of self-satisfaction as a cab pulled up immediately, as if he'd brought the thing to him on command.

He jerked open the car door and glanced inside, and froze, but only for a second. He froze only for a second before a grim smile crept up his face, and he pulled the toothpick out of his mouth and threw it on the street. He glanced over his shoulder at his friends and told them to get their own cab, and lumbered into his seat, slamming the door behind him.

Startled and pale, the cab's other customer leaned as uncomfortably close as possible to the opposite door, staring at him with wide eyes. Dave leaned back in his seat and pulled off his hat, slicking the sweat off of his brow and smoothing down his hair.

"Where to?" the driver asked.

Dave just shook his head and chuckled in bitter amusement. "I'm goin' where she's goin'." And at last turned to look her in the eye. "Hello there, Isabelle."


	9. Jamais - Feb 5, 1926

___Author's Note:__ Whew, I am having trouble getting back to writing! The holidays are so crazy, but I thought I'd finally get this out!_

_Disclaimer: The characters of _The Mummy_ and _The Mummy Returns_ are the property of Universal Studios__. The story is somewhat inspired by the movie _Original Sin_, and by the novel _A Reliable Wife _by Robert Goolrick, both of which have a similar premise to this._

* * *

**THE FOOLS**

* * *

**Jamais**

_Cairo, Egypt: February 5, 1926_

"Hello," Isabelle said at last, her lips failing to smile for her. She couldn't help the way she was staring at Dave in shock and fear, her hands trembling in her lap. She knew he was in town - she'd known it all day - and she supposed she should have expected to run into him sometime - soon, even. She should have known she'd come face to face with Dave and have to look him in the eye with everything now exposed between them. She should have known...and she should have expected this. But she was paralyzed from the shock of it.

"Fancy meetin' you here," he said dryly. He looked much too calm sitting over there on the other side of the cab. She'd always known to be most frightened when he was calm.

Not that Dave had ever harmed her, because he hadn't. Even when he was raging mad, knocking over tables or throwing glasses at the wall, he'd never once made a move to strike her. He'd never once thrown anything _at_ her, not even when she was the one who'd made him angry. She really didn't think he was the sort of man who would hurt her even now, but she was frightened just the same. He was much too calm; his voice was as still and even as the air just before a violent storm.

"Some shiner you got there," he added, motioning at her face.

Isabelle swallowed hard and reached a hand up to her eye, glancing away in embarrassment.

"Your fella Mr. Gabor do that to you?"

She cringed against the bitterness in his voice, and weakly nodded her head.

It was all Dave could do to snort and shake his head in disgust. Out of the corner of her eye, Isabelle saw his hands flex in and out of fists.

"That's no kind 'a man," he said at last, barely able to manage the words through his gritted teeth. _"No_ kind 'a man."

Isabelle glanced down. She didn't know what to say. But Dave wasn't done. He turned and looked at her, persistent and incredulous:

"And yet that's the kind 'a dickless yeller bastard you'd run out on me with."

Isabelle sucked in a breath.

"That the first time he hit you?" Dave demanded.

Beni had taken a swing at her once when he'd had too much too drink and passed out. She'd roused him and he must have been dreaming about something from his past, because he called her something in Hungarian and landed a half-hearted punch before slumping back into unconsciousness.

Isabelle figured that instance didn't really count.

"Yes," she said after a moment, though she was afraid that her nervousness betrayed her.

Dave scoffed and shifted his weight in his seat. "Well once is one time too many." He let out a loud sigh and crossed his arms over his chest, looking at her for a long time in a kind of hardened disbelief. "What're you doin' with him, anyways?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"No," he said, "Pro'lly not, seein' as how he's the runtiest little shit I ever laid eye on, but I'm askin' ya just the same."

The cab pulled to a stop in front of an inviting little bakery, but Isabelle suddenly didn't feel so hungry anymore. She was desperate to get out of the car, though she knew there was no escaping Dave - not now. With trembling fingers, she opened up her purse and pulled out a few bills for the cab driver, and she might have been a little surprised when Dave didn't shoo her hand away. She supposed he probably figured he'd spent enough of his money on her.

Isabelle opened the door and stepped outside, and heard Dave slam his door shut before she even had a chance to look up. He rounded the cab and took her by the arm, and she told herself to relax as she struggled to keep up with his determined footsteps.

"This the place you were goin' to?"

"Yes."

"Ain't had breakfast yet, I take it."

"No - "

He snorted. "Still laze half the day away in bed, then."

Isabelle let out a sigh. For all of her nerves and apprehension, something inside her felt weary in this conversation already, and she didn't even nod in acknowledgment. He ushered her into the bakery and tapped his foot as she ordered a pastry and espresso, and then dragged her to the furthest empty table he could find. Isabelle stared down at her breakfast and willed herself to take a bite.

"I wanna know everything," he said.

She glanced up at him and sighed. "What difference does it make now? He's left me and I have nothing - "

"Except this fella O'Connell."

Isabelle shook her head. "I don't even really have him..."

Dave grunted and leaned back in his chair. "Well you will, won'tcha? That's how you do. He must be loaded if you're shackin' up with him."

"He's come into some money..." Isabelle admitted reluctantly.

"Christ," Dave muttered. "Don't you care about anything else at all?"

Her eyes flashed up to his. "I cared about Beni."

"Well, see how that faired ya." He shook his head, pulling off his hat to wipe the sweat from his brow. "You must 'a cared about the varmint, though. You had it pretty damn good with me, and I know you did. Bought you every damn thing you ever wanted, and I was good to ya, too. Wouldn't it 'a just been easier to stick it out with me and say sayonara to your precious Mr. Gabor?"

Isabelle picked up her espresso and took a sip. It was much too hot and burned her tongue, but it was better than coming up with a response to Dave's question. Because what, really, did he want her to say to something like that?

"I was_ good_ to you," he said again, firm and settled.

"I didn't love you," Isabelle retorted before she had a chance to bite back the words. But Dave just raised his eyebrows.

"Oh, you didn't love me, huh?" he said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Not ever, I imagine."

"No," she said, her hand tightening on her fork.

"Not on our honeymoon in New Orleans, even. Not when we spent all night dancin' and drinkin' that good French wine."

Isabelle just shook her head, clenching her teeth against the memory. She could feel the sure way he was eying her, but she just couldn't look at him. She just couldn't.

"I know you loved me," he said.

"I didn't."

"You're lyin'."

She sighed and put her fork down, looking into his eyes impatiently. "What is it you want from me, Dave? I don't have your money. Do you want to drag me back to America and put me in prison? Is that what you'd like?"

Dave leaned across the table towards her, and tried to take her hand, but she pulled it away. "Maybe I just want _you,_ Izzy."

She'd always hated it when he called her that.

"Maybe I'm a damn fool for tryin', but I know you loved me and you had no cause for leavin' me. I'm spittin' mad you'd two-time me with that som'bitch, but he had some kind 'a hold on you and I'd be willin' to forget about that, seein' as how he's long gone. Don't got any inclination 'a where he went, do ya?"

Isabelle glanced up and met his eyes suspiciously; she was certain she detected something less than rhetorical about his question. It was only natural that he'd want to find Beni since he'd taken off with his money, but he had a glint in his cobalt-colored eyes that made her nervous. Maybe he had a mind to pummel Beni, too. He certainly wasn't the only one.

"No," she said pointedly. "I don't know where he is. He left me and he took the money and I was desperate for help, and Mr. O'Connell took me in. That's all."

Dave snorted and stretched his arms over his head. "I can imagine what you're doin' to pay him back." Isabelle pressed her lips together, feeling hopeful when he glanced at his watch. "Reckon Mr. Gabor taught you everything you know."

Isabelle glared back at him. "Perhaps he did."

Dave didn't bother to hide the disgusted look on his face. Isabelle leaned over the table, her heart thudding away in her chest angrily. She didn't feel so frightened of Dave anymore, at least not just then. She was frustrated with him trying to claim that she'd loved him, and she was tired of him calling Beni names and saying things about the man when he'd never, never understand what Isabelle had been through, and how Beni had helped her. She was tired of him slouching there across the table with her, and she just wanted to leave him and this and all of it - the bakery and the hot sun and dusty old Egypt.

She just wanted to go to Paris. It was snowing in Paris.

Her eyes narrowed at Dave and she told him darkly, "He taught me everything. Everything you ever liked about me, he showed me. Anything I ever did for you, that you liked so well - he did first. He found me and he made me the sort of woman you wanted, and you never would have taken a second look at me before I met him."

Dave stared back at her and shook his head. "Ya know, I was in love with you, Izzy. And you broke my heart just leavin'. Then I come to find out it was all for show and you was just after my money...Well, I got spittin' mad damn fast. 'Cause you're either some kind 'a liar, or you _was_ in love with me. Now I aim to get my money back, but I also aim to find out just which 'a them things is true. You swear you didn't love me?"

Isabelle closed her eyes. How she wished he would just leave; she wished he would stop asking her questions and just leave.

"You swear you didn't love me?" he asked again, too demanding to be desperate. "Not in New Orleans, and not ever?"

Isabelle reached for her espresso and took another sip. It was a lot colder than the last time she'd drank it, but it offered a brief distraction. She wouldn't look at Dave when she weakly shook her head.

"Not ever?"

"Dave..."

"Look at me," he said. And reluctantly she met his blazing, hard eyes. "You swear, not ever?"

* * *

Beni hadn't gotten more than a few minutes of sleep that whole night, slouched down in Hajna's stupid, creaking chair. His back ached and he felt irritable and a little delirious from sleeplessness. He also felt a little sick from his late night meal with Hajna and Izzy.

Stupid, crazy Hajna.

He knew it was only her and him in the apartment right now; he'd pretended to be dozing while Izzy bumbled about the kitchen and found himself a stale piece of bread to gnaw on for breakfast on his way out the door. Beni had been in no mood to deal with the smug bastard sleeping in his bed, so he'd forced out a few snores and heard Izzy mutter, "Gutter or a feather bed, makes no difference to the likes 'a you, ya blighter."

Actually, it _did_ make a difference. It made all the difference in the world, which was why Beni was so determined to keep a hold on his place in decent society. He might have grown up in slums, picking his existence out of so many garbage bins and the few, charitable palms that had been extended to him, but Beni wasn't a helpless little child anymore. He wasn't a stinking, starving streetrat now. He rented nice rooms in the nice parts of town, and wore nice suits and ate nice food and he was going to do that until the day he died.

He was willing to give up his new comfortable life for a little while if it meant he'd keep it in the long run, but staying in Hajna's apartment made him feel depressed and uneasy. He was anxious to be living well again. And he had the frightened inkling that if he stayed down here in the gutter too long, that he'd be trapped and never able to crawl back out again.

He'd certainly be stuck here if O'Connell managed to woo Isabelle like he had every other damn woman that ever laid eyes on him.

Beni sat up, his back and joints cracking loudly in protest, and glanced about the room hastily. He'd have to see Isabelle soon, just to remind her how fortunate she was to have him and how much they loved one another...or something. How much she loved him, at least. He'd have to pull her aside and tell her over and over again how much he loved her and what a perfect angel she was, and make love to her in that slow kind of way that he found utterly boring but seemed to thrill her and convince her that he really, _truly_ adored her.

In his way, Beni did adore her. He adored how simple and trusting and loyal she was. He adored her willingness and her desperate dreams of Paris. She practically begged him to take advantage of her, and as long as he had her convinced that he was in love with her, she'd do anything he wanted her to. She'd marry the richest fools he could find and steal their money right out from under them. He adored that about her.

And he couldn't lose her, especially not to O'Connell. When he'd overheard a few people discussing the paper and O'Connell's discovery, Beni simply couldn't believe it. He snatched the first newspaper he could get his hands on and flipped through the pages until he found O'Connell's stupid, handsome face. That had been at a diner in Texas, and he'd been itching to get out of America, anyway. O'Connell had merely been a footnote in America, but he was a headliner in Cairo, and Beni despised the way his face was plastered all over the newspapers like he was the Second Coming. He despised seeing O'Connell in his simple clothes when he ought to be wearing fine suits, even though he would have despised him in new, expensive clothes just as much. He hated everything about O'Connell's success, and he had to take it from him. He had to take everything.

He was so focused on his anger and jealousy that he didn't even notice Hajna drift into the kitchen until he heard the sound of the stove being lit, and he jumped up in surprise. Hajna barely acknowledged him, pouring water into a dirty coffee pot and setting it to boil. She wore a pink, threadbare silk robe Beni had stolen for her ages ago in an effort to appease her for one crazy outburst or another, and her reddish brown hair was in a wild, curly disarray all about her face. It was in desperate need of a cut, but was probably a bob not so long ago - the kind that made her wild curls look coy and her pale face pretty. Right now Beni just thought her hair made her look more insane than usual.

"How did you sleep?" she asked, turning to look at him at last. She wasn't wearing a nightgown and the robe cut a deep V all the way to her waist, where it was cinched with a mismatched belt.

Beni glared at her, in no mood for her even when her cleavage was so visible. "I didn't sleep. I could not get comfortable in this hard wooden chair."

Hajna only shrugged and turned back to her coffee.

"How dare you force me to sleep out here," he went on in a whiny, lamenting voice. "I am your husband. I have a right to my bed."

"Then perhaps you should have taken advantage of it sooner."

_"Hajna,"_ Beni pleaded, "you can't make me sleep out here every night! I am your husband, who you promised to_ love_ and_ honor_ and _cherish - "_

"And I am your wife!" she snapped, her hand tensing about the boiling pot of coffee.

Beni eyed the pot in her hand nervously and gulped. With a forced laugh and what he hoped was a charming smile, he said, "So now is not the time to mention you promised to obey me as well, eh?"

Hajna's eyes flashed, and Beni cowered, ready to dive for the floor at any moment should she decide to pour that whole pot of coffee on him.

"You can get out!" she shouted in a ear-splitting screech. "I don't need you here, not with Rick O'Connell and that Egyptologist out for your blood!"

Beni gulped, looking up at her plaintively. A little furrow found its way between his eyebrows, though, and he couldn't help the curious question:

"That Egyptologist's son, you mean, right? The one who swore he would have me hanged?"

Hajna let out a little snort, and put the coffee pot back on the stove. A cruel little smile crawled up her face, and she crossed her arms over her chest, staring down at him smugly.

"Then you did not hear," she said. "That Egyptologist is alive."

Beni stared at her with wide, confused eyes, and couldn't seem to swallow the sudden dryness in his throat. "That can't be. I shot him."

"Yes, he said that," Hajna said. "And he's said he would not mind paying you back the favor."


End file.
